


Not What You Think

by ArtemisBlythe



Series: Not What You Think 'Verse [1]
Category: American Actor RPF, Glee RPF
Genre: Angst, FTM, Fluff, M/M, Other, Romance, Slash, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Transgender, stunt actor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-21
Updated: 2012-03-20
Packaged: 2017-10-29 21:53:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 63
Words: 96,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisBlythe/pseuds/ArtemisBlythe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris is working on his first big Hollywood movie. He wasn't expecting to have so much fun. He wasn't expecting to meet Trip or to fall so hard or to be so anguished and then so in love. He really wasn't expecting the object of his affections to have such a big secret...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters are fictitious. Really. Any similarity to real people, especially one Mr Colfer, is in your head. OK, and mine. Trip is more real than I like to admit.
> 
> Trigger Warnings for later chapters, this fic includes all the following: trans character/s & issues, dysphoria, incidence of rape/homophobic & transphobic violence, angst/comfort, slash, romance & fluff.
> 
> Feedback is my drug of choice, feel free to feed my addiction. OH COME ON! SAY SOMETHING!!!!
> 
> 14/4/13 Update: See, now Chris & Will are all over tinternetz with their adorability at Coachella and Disneyland and just in general, I'd like to point out that I TOTALLY called the 8 year age gap.

  
Part One

  


Chris pulled his shades from his forehead as he jumped down the steps. The sun was blazing through the narrow gaps between the tightly-packed trailers. He reflected that it must be a pretty high maintenance cast if it warranted this much accommodation and then smiled inwardly as he realised, not for the first time, that he was _one_ of that high maintenance cast. Chris felt the edge of his mouth curl into a half-grin which he tried in vain to suppress. His first big movie. His first real, proper, high-budget Hollywood movie. Shooting three seasons of a TV series had been the most awesome experience, it had established him, given him everything he needed to launch into his chosen field. The contacts, the name. Now it was only a matter of time before he’d be fulfilling his dream of writing and directing. But he was jumping the gun... it was only the first week of filming, (not that he’d even seen a camera yet) and he was still finding his feet. It was strange to be working with an unfamiliar group of people. He’d become so used to the old team, knew how they worked, what each director wanted. It had become so that the whole cast and crew almost didn’t need to discuss the scenes, how to play them, what to do, which angles to choose. It had become almost predictable, maybe a little unchallenging...  This now, _this_ was something new, a little scary, certainly challenging.

 

And Chris _loved_ a challenge.

 

Entering the hangar-like sound stage Chris paused for a moment. The cold darkness caught him by surprise until he lifted his shades and oriented himself. He caught sight of Sam, the director, an almost impossibly awe-inspiring person with whom to be working. Chris headed over to where things seemed to be happening and hovered nearby, waiting to be noticed. Sam was mid-flow and swung his arm wildly to the right,

 

‘...all the way round, like this...’ he paused, ‘Oh hey, Chris, listen, there’s someone you need to meet. Wait there.’

 

He finished talking to a guy in a faded black tee shirt and a black cap (almost certainly a lighting technician or camera guy, Chris thought. They had a look about them.)

 

Sam straightened up and put his hand on Chris’ shoulder, propelling him to the other side of the hangar where a group of three or four men stood, arms folded, critically appraising the set which occupied the far end of the space. The tallest of the group was built like no-one Chris had ever seen before. He was massive. His arms were bulging with muscle and his chest appeared to have been barely forced into his spandex sports top. Chris was suddenly aware that he had been staring at those arms for just a _little_ too long and that he was now being introduced to their owner,

 

‘Chris, this is our stunt director, Marco. He’ll talk you through what’s happening later when we begin filming the action sequences.’

 

Chris shook hands.

 

‘Hi, pleased to meet you, Marco.’ Always repeat the name back to them to make sure you’ve got it right. Chris was terrible with names and had to prompt himself to do all the little tricks to help him remember. Marco. _Marco._ Stunt director. Oh dear holy God, he was in an action movie. That little smile twitched at his lip again. Yeah, but this was _intelligent_ action.

 

‘Chris, this is part of my team for this movie, Raph the fight director, he’ll be choreographing the sequences you do yourself...’

 

‘Hey, Raph’ short, stocky, dark eyes, dark hair. HUGE hands. Chris was momentarily surprised by the firmness of the handshake.

 

‘...and Mike who deals with health and safety...’

 

Mike interjected ‘I’m the one who’ll tell ya what not to do and then put you back together again when you do it anyway and get hurt. Then I’ll laugh and say ‘told you so’!’ He smiled broadly as he shook Chris’ hand.

 

 Chris looked up at him. Bald as an egg, well over six foot, with the darkest skin Chris had ever seen. Jesus, these guys were intimidating. Though he was approaching six foot himself, he was beginning to feel very insubstantial when faced with these men who obviously spent several hours a day in the gym, whose whole raison d’être was complete physicality. Their bodies and what they could do with them made up their entire profession.

 

Chris concentrated on breathing and telling himself there was a place for him, too. He was the actor here, he was the star. It never worked, that one. Every time he thought of himself as a star, the image crumbled a little. He was just himself, just doing what he did, having fun, following lines and movements and direction and playing let’s pretend... he couldn’t believe people thought as highly of him as they did. He wondered if it would ever become real. If he would ever believe the hype...

 

‘...and this is your stunt double...’ Marco was saying to him. Mike had moved aside to make way for a shorter man who thrust out his hand to take Chris’.

 

‘Hi, I’m Trip’

 

‘Trip? That’s a bit of a concern for a stunt man, isn’t it?’ Chris laughed nervously.

 

Trip smiled ‘Yeah, I get that a lot. It’s not what you think. My initials are T.R.P so I picked the name up long before all of this.’ He gestured around him. ‘Nice to meet you, Chris’

 

‘Likewise.’

 

There was a pause as Chris caught himself studying the face in front of him. There was something about it that caught his attention. Something _arresting._ Chris looked away. It was a terrible actor’s habit, this desire to just look, to examine the expressions, the mannerisms. To probe much deeper than the average human being could bear into the person beneath.

 

‘OK, so we need to check out the set and take a look at today’s sequences for Sam. I don’t think there’s anything planned for you today, Chris. I think you’re gonna need to get Bev to match you and Trip up in the hair department.’ Marco was saying. It was amazing to Chris how much time seemed to be spent doing absolutely nothing of consequence on a film set. Marco was yelling across the space to a young woman with a clipboard. She bustled over to them.

 

‘Chris, um, I need you and Trip to get over to hair and get Bev to match you up,’ Marco opened his hands and looked heavenward ‘then we need you back here after lunch to rehearse the office scene we started on Monday.’ She snapped a sheet of paper off her clipboard and handed it to Chris before whisking round and returning to the knot of people in the centre of the room.

 

‘OK!’ Chris called uselessly and a little sarcastically after her. He turned to Trip, who grinned.

 

‘Busy, busy, busy!’  Trip laughed and folded his arms over his chest.

 

Chris smiled. He’d been pleasantly surprised earlier when he learned that not all stunt men were meaty and muscle-bound. Though he was quite content to watch them for their eye-candy value. Trip was something different. His voice was lighter than Chris had expected, almost as high pitched as Chris’ own trademark tones but with a certain studied gravity. His laugh was warm and genuine. Just as he began to look again, Trip unfolded his arms, touched Chris’ elbow and nodded towards the back of the hangar.

 

‘So we gonna see Bev, get our hair done?’

 

‘Yeah, sure, I guess so’


	2. Chapter 2

Part Two

Chris followed obediently, considering to himself how his profession thrust one into awkward social situations that you just had to ride with and make them seem normal. How he was now going to spend the day and beyond with the man who would play him in the most risky of situations, perhaps even take injuries for him and who seemed completely at ease with it all. He looked up.

From behind he could see that they’d chosen his double pretty well. Trip was a little shorter than he was but he was a similar, slim build. His shoulders broad and straight, well-defined, toned upper arms, taut forearms, lightly dusted with hairs, ropes of veins just visible in the dim light... Chris caught himself just in time. He liked forearms, there was just something about them. He switched his attention to Trip’s neat waist and his stomach did another little clench. He took a sharp breath and quickened his pace to catch up.

‘So you know your way around pretty well?’

‘Yeah, I’ve worked here a few times.’

Chris sensed something of an understatement there. Trip seemed to know exactly where he was going and what he was doing. They approached a door at the back of the massive space. Chris would never have even known it was there. Trip pushed though it and out into the blinding Californian sunlight. Chris lowered his sunglasses again as the two of them made their way to a separate building Chris was already able to identify as the home of all things make-up, hair and costume-related. He’d spent a whole day with wardrobe a fortnight before being dressed and undressed like a Barbie doll. No, he self-corrected, like a Ken doll; this character was all-man, not like his previous role and the fashion-forward choices the wardrobe department got to make for him. He had a feeling he was rather going to miss the crazy outfits he used to wear. Trip led him along a bland block-walled corridor to an unmarked and utterly insignificant door. After knocking, Trip opened it and peered in.

‘Aaiiiiieeeeeee!’ came a squeal and a diminutive woman shot out of her chair and clamped her arms around Trip’s waist. ‘How’re you doin’ babe?’ She shrilled into Trip’s chest.

Trip threw his head back and laughed, Chris noted the smooth line of his throat, very faint shadow of stubble...

‘I’m good, Bev, how’re you?’ He pressed a kiss to the woman’s wild black and crimson hair and artfully disengaged her from his torso.

‘Just peachy, hon, just peachy!’ Bev turned to Chris, ‘Hi, darl, you met your doppelganger, then?’ She grinned broadly.

‘Uh, yeh. You guys know each other, huh?’

‘Oh, we go waaaaaay back!’ Bev raised her eyebrows and cast a cheeky look towards Trip, who grinned in return.

‘So, we need to turn you two into terrible twins, yeah?’ Bev took a step back and looked from Chris to Trip and back again. ‘Yeah, we can do that.’ She nodded ‘Have a seat, boys.’

She gestured to the chairs which stood in front of classic lit mirrors. Though Chris knew she and her team had only been installed at the end of the previous week, they looked to have made themselves right at home. The counters teemed with equipment, brushes, hairpieces on stands, bottles of products, various electrical devices with leads snaking and twining down under the counters. A skinny blonde girl with a retainer on her top teeth stood shyly in the corner, almost unnoticed. Chris smiled at her as he sat in the chair nearest her.

‘Hey Kel, how’re you?’ he asked amiably.

He’d met Bev’s assistant and trainee when Bev had cut his hair and discussed his character’s ‘look’ the week before. He’d felt like one of those styling heads as he was looked at, had his hair ruffled and rearranged and was finally divested of his sideburns and floppy bangs. He quite liked the new style, it was easy to manage, he just had to run a hand through at the front to make it stand up and he was done. Quite a far cry from the increasingly elaborate and product-cemented up-do’s he’d got used to on his last gig.

‘Hi Chris’ Kelly lisped softly, trying to show as few teeth as she could.  
Chris could tell as soon as he met her that she’d been a big fan of that last show. She was young enough to still find it difficult to detach Chris’ character from the real person. It was quite sweet to see the way her eyes sparkled when he spoke to her and the paralysing awkwardness that overcame her when he was nearby. He figured it would take her at least another two weeks of washing and blow-drying his hair before she would pluck up the courage to ask for his autograph.

Bev was fiddling with the hair at the back of his head. Chris glanced in the mirror to see what she was up to. She appeared to be holding swatches of hair to his head in an attempt to work out the best combination to choose for the best match. When satisfied, she spoke with Kelly, patiently explaining the numbers of the different colours she required and how much of each she needed. Kelly looked momentarily confused and Bev looked back over her shoulder to Chris and Trip.

‘I’ll just be a moment, boys, gonna sort out these colours.’ And she and Kelly disappeared through a partition door into an adjoining room.

Chris swung his chair round to face Trip.

‘So, uh, how do we do this whole stunt double thing? I never had one before.’

He mentally kicked himself for not playing it more cool, not shutting up and appearing like he actually knew what he was doing. He still felt like such a babe in the woods.

Trip swung around too. ‘Well, I’m pretty thorough, I guess. I like to get my actor’s movements and mannerisms right so, uh, I’ll be lurking around like some kind of creep just watching you for a bit. It freaks some people out, but there ya go.’ He raised his hands from the armrests in an open gesture. He continued, ‘Some stunt guys just go in and do the stunts, y’know, as long as they pass in long shot, they’re happy but Marco likes his guys to be a bit more professional. He sees us as actors too, I guess.’

Chris nodded, more fascinated by the idea of having Trip lurk around watching him than he cared to admit to himself. He squashed the thought.

‘So how long’ve you been doing this?’ He winced at the clichéd question but found himself genuinely interested.

Trip wrinkled his nose in consideration ‘Ummm, about ten years or so...’

Chris was surprised at the answer. ‘What? You started when you were like, fourteen or something?!’

Trip grinned ‘I’m thirty-one, Chris’

‘No way!’

‘Way!’

Chris studied him in silence for a moment, his eyebrows raised.

‘What?’ Trip was amused at Chris’ disbelief.

‘Sorry, you just look a lot younger... y’know, in a good way...’

‘Thanks. I think...’ Trip nodded his head. ‘It’s kinda useful I guess, in my job, I mean. Marco says I’m his most versatile actor. I get to do a lot of the younger kids’ work. Y’know, when they need someone who has my kinda experience but who can pass for a teenager...’ He hesitated ‘...or a girl...’

‘They get a guy to do girls’ stunts?’

‘Sometimes, yeah. In long shot, obviously. Just depends on what’s required and who Marco has available at the time, who fits the bill.’

‘So you’ve worked for Marco for a while?’

Chris was beginning to really enjoy digging up this backstory. Trip’s easy grin and relaxed manner made it almost impossible not to ask questions which might have seemed too personal for the first hour of their acquaintance.

‘Yeah, I met him when I was training and he and Bev kinda took me in for a bit, helped me find my feet...’

‘Bev and Marco are...?’

‘Oh, yeah, they’re together. Not married but as good as. A Hollywood partnership made in heaven. I think producers and studios like the idea that they’re kind of a package deal. ‘

Trip looked up as Bev and Kelly came back into the room.

‘I was just telling Chris how you and Marco have the whole of Hollywood pretty much tied up.’

Bev smiled, shaking out a black cape and securing it round Trip’s neck.

‘Yep, we do OK. Now all we need is to adopt a few kids who’ll be writers and technicians and investors and we’re set!’

She took a bowl from Kelly and proceeded to mash at its contents with a brush.

‘OK Trip, you ready for this? We’re gonna darken you down a little. Shouldn’t take too long. Put a little warmth in there too. We’ll cut it after you’re cooked.’

Trip nodded ‘Yep, sure’.

Chris watched her deft latex-swathed fingers separating locks of hair and coating them in the thick mixture. It was something between painting and pastry-glazing, he mused. Strangely mesmeric. She worked quickly, starting at the front of Trip’s head and finishing up with the shorter hair at the back. When all that was left to cover was the hair right in the nape of Trip’s neck, Chris realised that he had been craning his neck to watch as Bev brushed upwards along the hairline. He glanced over at the mirror to see Trip’s eyes amusedly watching him. Chris half-smiled, a little embarrassed.

‘It’s fascinating. I’ve never watched anyone get their head painted before.’ Chris said.

Trip raised a single eyebrow as if he saw right through Chris’ innocuous comment. Chris felt uncomfortably certain that Trip knew how strangely thrilled he’d been by the thought of brushing those tiny wisps of hair at the nape of his neck. He suddenly felt the hairs on the back of his own neck prickle and stand to attention...

‘She’s an artist, is Bev’ Trip diffused the moment and Chris flashed a grin across to Kelly, who had been watching with equal concentration, though for somewhat different reasons.

‘OK, Trip. We’ll leave you to cook for twenty minutes or so. Kelly & are gonna go get a coffee. Want us to bring you back something?’

‘No, I’m good thanks.’ Trip replied.

‘Chris?’

‘No thanks, Bev. Uh, is there something I should be doing right about now? I feel a bit useless.’

Bev smiled. ‘You’ll get used to it, hon. There’s a LOT of hanging around at the start, while everything gets organised. You’ll think back on this with longing in a few weeks when you just pulled your second or third twenty-four hour day. Make the most of it. Someone’ll come find you if they need you.’


	3. Chapter 3

Part Three

Chris nodded as Kelly opened the door and they both left in search of coffee. Once the door clicked to again, he turned to glance at Trip in the mirror. The mixture on his hair was darkening as the dye worked and the way it flattened his hair to his head threw his features into relief. The arresting quality of Trip’s face that Chris had noticed when they first met was a combination of strikingly blue eyes and incredibly sculpted, high cheekbones. He had a pixie-like quality to his face which Chris had heard described in his own features but never really accepted. But this was the real deal. His nose was tip-tilted, the jawline soft and the skin almost flawless. He was beautiful.

‘Hey, secret thoughts of switching from acting to hairdressing?’ Trip joked, bringing Chris back into the present with a snap.

‘No, not really. Just had one of those reality-check moments.’ Chris massaged his brow with his hand, rubbing his fingertips into his eyes. This was the turning point, he decided. This was the minute to choose if he maintained the professional front with his stunt double and they spent the next few months exchanging pleasantries and talking takes and angles. Or, whether Chris blew the whole gaffe and told Trip how excited he was about being in a Hollywood movie and how terrified he was that he’d mess up and how fairytale-like it was to have a fucking stunt-double. And how much he wanted to stroke those little hairs at the nape of... Oh no, just stop.

‘Um, Trip...?’ Chris began

‘Uh huh?’ Trip looked at Chris in the mirror. He seemed to need that degree of separation for whatever he was about to say.

‘Uh, you’ve done like, loads of movies, right?’

‘Yeah, a fair number. Why?’ That massive down-scaling again.

‘D’you like, get to know the actors that you’re doubling pretty well?’

‘Sometimes. The really big names tend not to talk to grunts like me. The new ones usually like to talk, share the excitement, ask if they’re doing OK, pick up tips. Y’know...’

Trip saw a look of relief pass over Chris’ face. He’d hit the nail on the head. The kid was in Lala land. He’d taken a bite of the Hollywood lotus and discovered that along with the highs came the constant self-doubt. His heart constricted momentarily and Trip clenched his whole body to stop it.

‘I’m kind of used to a big crowd of actors on set, y’know, always having someone around to talk to, to have fun with. There was always pizza in someone’s trailer and we were just so stupid all the time. This is pretty different. I feel like I have to be all grown up, be a real actor.’ Chris glanced up at Trip in the mirror. Trip had been watching him throughout his little speech.

‘You are a real actor, Chris’

‘Yeah, but d’you know what I mean? I’m this cute character from a TV series that everyone knows and loves, I’m this gay icon, this spokesperson, this role-model for kids and all the time I just feel like this big fraud who fell into this by accident and who just wants to lie around in his bedroom talking about guys...’

‘Yeah, I hear that...’

Both of them looked up at the same moment, as if aware they’d crossed a line. Chris’ eyes widened

‘You’re...’

‘Yeah, I am.’

Trip cut him off, looking down. He couldn’t believe what he’d just done. In a split second he’d broken about three of his cardinal rules. He’d gotten personal, he’d let someone in and he’d enjoyed it. It was fine to be the actor’s listening ear, fine to give good counsel, to even be an emotional punch-bag when things were going badly. Trip held all kinds of secrets about all kinds of actors, let out in moments of stress or after particularly emotional scenes or personal situations but it was a one-way street. He didn’t reveal anything in return. Ever.

Until now.

Trip’s heart was racing in the back of his throat. The blood rushed in his ears. Adrenaline flooded his system as it did before a particularly challenging drop or fall but this wasn’t the excitement of performing what he knew he did well. This was fear. And anger at himself. And... something else.

In a moment he had gone from the role of mentor; wise, experienced elder, keeper of secrets to... to what? He glanced up at Chris’ face in the mirror; pale, vulnerable, scared maybe... yes... to that.

‘Would you mind getting me a coffee, Chris?’ Trip reassembled in an instant. Chris wouldn’t have noticed a thing, he was certain. He’d had enough goddamn experience.

‘Oh, sure. How d’you take it?’

Trip threw him a lewd grin, the facade back in place. ‘Strong and black’

Chris glanced at him for a second, making sure the innuendo was entirely intentional and they both laughed.

The ice was broken.

***


	4. Chapter 4

Part Four

As Chris reached the end of the corridor, the door to the outside swung open. Bev and Kelly were returning with their drinks in Styrofoam cups.

‘Hi,’ Chris moved aside so they could pass, ‘the canteen’s this way, right?’ He gestured through the open door to the left.

‘Yep, Kelly, why don’t you go show Chris where to go.’ Bev gestured with her head that the girl should lead. ‘All’s I’m doing is rinsing Trip’s color off. Be back soon though, I need your head, Chris.’

As they moved out into the light, Chris tapped Kelly lightly on the arm;

‘P’raps I should just pop my head off for her?’

Kelly giggled without showing her teeth. ‘That’s funny.’ She added.

‘Does it take long to learn your way around here?’ Chris asked.

‘No, not long. It’s pretty easy once you know. There’s a lot of walking though. Some people bring bikes.’ Kelly ventured to look across to Chris, her bangs over her eyes.  
‘Really? Now there’s a good idea. P’raps we should, like, all bring Razr scooters or something?’

Kelly nodded eagerly, clearly thrilled at the idea of herself and Chris scootering around the backlot.

‘There’s the canteen’ She nodded towards a large trailer with a hatch and counter along the front. Chris nodded his thanks, despite the fact that once out of the building he’d immediately oriented himself and knew exactly where he was going.

‘You wanna donut or something to go with that?’ he asked Kelly, indicating her coffee cup.

Her eyes lit up. ‘Oh, yes please! Thanks!’

She and Chris joined the short line of people waiting at the counter.

***

Bev swung into the room, spilling coffee on the floor despite the lid on the cup she was carrying.

‘Aw, shit, that’s hot!’ she hissed. Trip laughed as she place the cup on the cluttered counter, shaking her hands free of drips.

‘So, did he leave or didja throw him out?’

‘Hey, no fair! Neither!’ Trip acted all indignant at the implied accusations.

‘Boy, I am NOT either blind or stupid, Trip. I could smell the raw testosterone from the backlot.’

‘Beverly!’ Trip looked outraged.

‘Aww, c’mon kid. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.’

‘What from him or me?’ Trip was suddenly confused. He was pretty used to Bev poking fun at him about perceived lecherous glances or guys he’d worked with but there was something that felt different this time. Usually it was all in fun. Trip didn’t let himself feel, he certainly didn’t let himself show it.

‘Bit of both, I’d say...’ Bev folded her arms over her chest and cocked an enquiring look at him, probing him with her eyes.

‘Get outta here!’ Trip reached out to flick her with the back of his hand and she jumped back adroitly.

‘Yeah, well, just sayin’...’ Bev grabbed a pair of gloves from the counter and slipped them on, stepping back towards Trip and wiping a lock of his hair to check the colour.

Trip sat silently, looking into his own eyes in the mirror. It was very rapidly all getting too risky. He began to feel just a bit out of control. Bev was utterly trustworthy and knew him better than anyone else in the world. Except perhaps, Marco. Between them, they’d been like his later-in-life adoptive parents, supporting him, nursing his injuries in the early days, advising him on a myriad of issues but this was the first time he actually felt a twinge of real uncertainty, fear, vulnerability.

And not just for himself.

‘C’mon, time to rinse you off.’ Bev all but dragged him off the chair and through to the adjoining room which had three hairwash sinks along the left hand wall. Trip let Bev swathe his neck in towels and arrange his head in the notch at the front edge of the basin.

‘Heat OK for you?’

‘Yeah, fine’ It was actually a bit cold but Trip wasn’t really focussing on the water. His mind was a long, long way away as he began to recall the last time he’d tried to let someone else into his life, then the time before that and then further back still...

***


	5. Chapter 5

Part Five

 

He’d known from as far back as he could remember.

Maybe four or five, maybe before that. Almost as soon as he realised there was a difference between boys and girls and that they were expected to dress differently and play differently and act differently. His mom and dad didn’t seem to notice for a while that there was something significantly wrong; when their child acted outside of the expected parameters, they simply put it down to being young, having to learn, needing to do more of the right stuff. He’d begun to rail against it, but that just got him a slap on the behind so he went with the flow, developing a rich fantasy life in which his true self could flourish unhindered. By High School, things were getting significantly awkward. He grew increasingly depressed and withdrew further and further into his fantasy existence. As puberty really kicked in, all hell began to break loose.

The teasing, the taunting and the bullying he could handle. It was beginning to feel like the real world was actually the fantasy so it was easier to shrug off the awful names, the cruel jokes, but not the complete and utter aloneness of his existence. It was even easier to manage the physical hurts when they came. The constant shoves into walls, lockers, furniture. The endless feet stuck out and the resulting grazed hands and knees and then the fist in the face on the way back from the senior prom. It was all artfully explained away to his parents as they gazed upon their child with blind incomprehension.

The summer of High School graduation, he decided something had to give. He knew he had to get out, he could keep it up no longer.

It was a hot evening, dressed in jeans and a shirt, he was sitting under the apple tree in the yard when his mom came out carrying two glasses of lemonade. She’d asked what the book was and if everything was OK at school and all the small things. Then, with an exceptionally deep breath, she gathered all the emotional energy she had and asked:

‘Sweetie, do you think you might be a-a lesbian?’

For her, this was a brave move, he later reflected. It was so completely outside her realm of acceptance that it was probably the most awful thing she could imagine. Had his dad been home she never would have dreamed of broaching the subject. It was an aberration, against God, not even to be countenanced. Her eyes betrayed the risk she was taking and he knew she wouldn’t really have wanted to know if that had been the truth for his dad would have probably taken it out on both of them. She furrowed her brow, not comprehending the blank look facing her.

‘You... you know what that is, right?’ she ventured.

He had laughed and laughed and laughed. It felt like a kind of release, he couldn’t stop himself. He laughed despite the look of sheer incomprehension and hurt on his mother’s face, he had laughed until he was unable to catch his breath and black spots swam before his eyes, he had laughed until he was practically sobbing.

‘No, mom, I’m not a lesbian. I’m- oh God... I’m a guy...’

Expressions fought their way across his mom’s face, it twitched and twisted as she struggled to respond, to say something, anything.

Eventually

‘What???’ she gasped ‘WHAT???’

‘Mom, I’m a boy. I know that makes no sense to you but I’m a boy in a girl’s body. I always have been. It’s why I wear boy’s clothes and I don’t date and I don’t talk to you or dad or anyone and I don’t have any friends and everyone teases me and I live in my room and I wear this fucking binder every day and I hate my body and I hate my life and I hate myself...’

Years of tears began to pour down his cheeks. Once again, the tightness around his chest made it hard to breathe but the sobs would not stop. He didn’t even see his mother rise shakily to her feet and return to the house, pausing sensibly to pick up the lemonade glasses as she went.

He’d allowed the sobs to gradually lessen before swiping at his sore eyes and blundering from the yard via the side gate, almost running onto the sidewalk and up the road, not really aware of where he was heading, just away.

As he had stalked the neighbourhood with long, anguished strides, his fantasy self spoke quite rationally to his real self, arguing that his mom might understand, now he’d told her, she might tell his dad, they might welcome him back into the house with open arms as a son, rather than a daughter. That he might return to school to finish the year without fear of reprisals, that it was all going to be OK now...

But that was a fantasy. It hadn’t been OK now. Not at all.

He’d returned to the house some two hours later, as the shadows were lengthening and a chill began to nip at the air. Approaching, he could see that his father’s car was back in the driveway, he was home from work. The next thing that caught his eye was the wheeled suitcase the family used for trips away. The big one that used to fit all their stuff when he was a little...girl. The tears threatened to well up again but he shoved them down. Beside the case was an open box. Casting a glance into it as he came closer, he recognised the contents of his shelves, odd books, figures from collectable series, a TARDIS model he’d made in fourth grade...

The front porch door clicked open and his mom started to step through, only to be pushed roughly out of the way by his father, his face contorted in rage and disgust.

‘Get off my drive you fucking freak. I don’t know you and you are NOT welcome in my house.’ He snarled in a voice that was low and evil and ragged. It continued, louder:

‘I had a daughter, Tracey, she wasn’t much of a daughter, kinda ugly, tomboy, weird. We thought she was a fucking dyke...’ he spat the word like poison ‘..but at least you can cure that, at least you can get someone to FUCK that outta her... but this... this..!’ he gestured spastically towards the broken figure in front of him ‘This is just.. just... FUCK!’

He clenched his fists and began to tense up, ropey sinews popping on his forearms.

Trip hadn’t stayed for the inevitable conclusion. He’d leaped clear of the punch, hefted the box to his aching, bound chest, grabbed the handle of the wheeled case and fled. Once again, simply heading away.

He’d ended up at school. It was the only other place he could think of to go. It was closed up so he’d dragged himself round the side by the dumpsters and spent an exhausted, sleepless night of despair clutching the TARDIS surrounded by the smell of decay.

The last three weeks of school had been salvaged by his English teacher who had found him the next morning as she pulled into the parking lot. She asked no questions, preferring to draw her own conclusions. He had told her that he’d been kicked out but offered no more details and she allowed him to sleep on the couch in her tiny one-bedroom apartment until after graduation. She’d kindly offered to pay if her guest would clean and do laundry in return. By the time Trip was able to leave, he had enough money for a bus ticket to the city and a little to live on.

***


	6. Chapter 6

Part Six

 

‘TRIP! I said we’re done!’ Bev loomed into his view upside down from behind the sink.

‘Oh, right’ he sat up, disoriented for a moment.

‘Where were you, hon?’ Bev appeared right-way-up, concern in her eyes.

‘Miss Butler’s apartment’ he murmured softly.

‘Ohh, right. You’ve come a long way.’ Bev got it straight away. Trip was so grateful that he didn’t have to explain, all that had been done a long time ago. Bev squeezed his arm as she propelled him forward, wrapping the towel around his sleek, wet hair.

‘C’mon, Chris is back, let’s get you matched up.’ She smiled gently.

Trip felt Chris’ eyes light upon him as soon as he passed through the door.

Trip felt kind of raw after his flashback, somehow emotionally naked, despite the fact that it had all been inside his head. He resolved to keep it all there. He’d done all the processing he needed to do. Done the talking therapy, accepted himself, his gender identity, his past...

‘Looking good’ Chris observed, indicating Trip’s hair.

‘Thanks. She does a great job.’ Trip smiled at Bev. He found himself meaning so much more by the comment than Chris would ever imagine.

‘OK, we’ll give you a blast and then do a trim.’ Bev switched on the dryer and Trip relaxed into the warmth and the sureness of Bev’s touch.

Shortly afterwards, Bev told Chris to sit still as she swiftly and artfully snipped and checked, snipped and checked until both haircuts looked identical.

‘Cool’ said Chris, looking at Trip in the mirror once again. ‘I always wanted a twin!’

Trip laughed.

‘We done, Bev?’

She brushed off his neck and swept the cape off his shoulders.

‘Yep, all done. Thanks boys.’

‘Thank you, Bev. That was great to watch!’ Chris said sincerely as he and Trip made to leave the room.

‘Don’t forget these!’ Kelly grabbed Chris’ sunglasses from where he’d put them on the counter and handed them over.

‘Thanks, Kelly.’ Chris flashed her an extra sweet smile ‘And thanks for sharing donuts with me.’ With a conspiratorial wink he turned and followed Trip down the corridor.

‘Donuts, huh? So you won’t be wanting any lunch then?’ Trip said as they stood in the midday glare of the backlot.

Chris settled his shades on his nose and shook his head.

‘Actually, I’m starving. What time is it?’

‘Quarter after twelve’ replied Trip, checking his watch. Chunky, outdoorsy, probably waterproof and shockproof thought Chris, allowing himself just a little glance at the arm upon which the watch was fastened.

‘You left-handed, Trip?’ he asked.

‘No, why?’

‘You wear your watch on your right wrist. Most people fasten their watches with their dominant hand, so they wear them on the opposite one. Just the kind of thing I tend to notice.’ Chris had a slight sense that he was babbling.

‘Oh, right. Yeah, I guess so. I broke my fingers a couple years back so had to switch over. Never got around to switching back’ He flexed the fingers on his right hand as if to demonstrate that they were all better now.

‘Scars?’ Chris asked, conversationally as they made their way over to the canteen hatch.

Trip held out his hand, displaying three white lines, one on each of the middle fingers.

‘They kinda had to put them back together again’ he mugged ruefully. ‘I was a dumbass and didn’t get a fall right, I broke all the rules, put my hand out to break the impact and kinda... crunch.’

‘Eeeow, ouch!’ Chris felt his balls wanting to retract into his body at the thought of the impact and the sound Trip was describing. Really not pleasant.

They joined the line for lunch which was significantly longer than earlier. Mainly crew and technicians and the endless streams of young women with clipboards who seemed to think they kept the place running smoothly. And who probably did.

There was a handful of mismatched outdoor tables and chairs in the sun in front of the catering van. Assorted people were seated, eating, chatting, smoking. Chris looked up to the side of the van where a prominent ‘No Smoking’ sign was displayed. Fighting something of a losing battle, he felt.

‘Hey guys!’ Marco called across to them from one of the tables. ‘Looking awesome! I can hardly tell the diff.’

Trip cuffed him on the shoulder and Chris has the sense that this was a standard comment at this time in a production.

‘So you need me this afternoon?’ Trip asked him.

‘Nah, some shit going down with Tom and Kate that Sam wants to deal with. You can take off if you like. Go have fun, go see a movie!’ Marco gestured widely at the whole of the backlot and the irony of the suggestion was not lost on Chris and Trip.

‘Yeah, let’s do that!’ mugged Trip ‘Cos we don’t see enough movies and I NEVER know how they do those fucking stunts without killin’ themselves...!’

Marco threw his head back and guffawed. ‘You’re crazy, kid.’

‘Yeah, I work for you!’ Trip threw back affectionately as they walked away.

‘I’m supposed to be back for a rehearsal after lunch.’ Chris reminded Trip.

‘Oh, yeah, that’s right. Well, we can still do lunch. You wanna go for some real food? Grab some pizza or sushi or something?’

‘Maybe not pizza, not on top of donuts. I could murder some kind of salady thing though.’ Chris replied.

‘OK, shall I drive?’

As they headed over to the parking lot, Trip turned to Chris.

‘Hey, you need a BC?’

Chris stared ‘A what now?’

‘A BC. A thug, a bodyguard. Someone to keep the fans at bay. I dunno if you have one.’ Trip shrugged.

‘Oh, um I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve left the lot on this one except to go home. And what’s a BC?’

‘Bullet Catcher. It’s kind of a funny in entertainment security. They usually deflect more screaming girls than bullets to be honest.

Chris grinned. He’d had his fair share of that in the past. Hopefully the teeny fandom had died away a little in the year since the last season had aired. He certainly wasn’t papped as much as he used to be. The fickle finger of fame.

‘Oh, never mind’ Trip was saying, ‘Let’s just abscond, I’ll watch your back.’

However, as he said it, Chris noticed over Trip’s shoulder that a substantial black man in jeans and a plaid shirt was striding towards them. As he caught up he explained, slightly apologetically:

‘Uh, I’m Boots, I uh, I need to go with you, sir. You want me to drive you?’

‘Do you have to drive him?’ Trip queried, squinting up at the guy.

‘No sir, but I need to know which vehicle you’ll be taking and I need you to wait for me. Studio rules. It’s in your contract, sir.’ Boots looked straight at Chris who bit his lip in mock guilt.

Trip pointed across the lot to a red and white VW Campervan. ‘I’ll be driving that vehicle. You won’t have any trouble tailing me. It has a maximum speed of fifty and all the manoeuvrability of a loaf of bread.’

Chris spluttered with laughter. This was turning out to be fun!

‘Yes sir.’ Boots nodded, smiling slightly as he headed over to a rank of identical black SUVs. ‘I’ll keep mine in first gear so’s I can keep up.’

Trip and Chris yawped at each other in mock outrage.

‘Just for that I’m gonna take her up to the max!’ shouted Trip as he raced over to the camper.

He headed round to the far side of the cab and Chris was about to comment when he noticed that the steering wheel was on the right.

‘It’s a right hand drive? How do you even do that? Isn’t everything the wrong way round?’

‘You get used to it’

Trip unlocked the passenger door and Chris was surprised at the height he had to climb up to get into his seat. The classic vehicle had a wonderful, old-fashioned smell to it. Like holidays, somehow. Gasoline and plastic and slightly damp carpet.

Trip swung himself into the driver’s seat and waggled the gear shift to check it was in neutral. After fastening his seatbelt, he keyed the ignition and turned it over. The throaty engine rumbled into life and they lurched out of the parking space.


	7. Chapter 7

Part Seven

‘So where we heading?’

Trip turned to Chris as they waited at the exit barrier from the studio’s parking lot. The guard scanned the security card lodged between the dashboard and windshield with a hand-held device before waving them through. Trip checked the tiny rear-view to ensure they had their tail. The huge black SUV was hard to miss.

‘I have no idea! Take me to salad!’

Trip smiled as he shifted gears and the van surged forward.

Chris was feeling a little like a kid who’d skipped school. He found himself thoroughly enjoying his high viewpoint from the cab of the old VW, the wind whipping in through the open window. (No air-con in 1972 Trip had laughingly told him as he tried to adjust the fan vent) Hollywood and its environs slid by in the blazing sunshine and he felt his eyelids begin to droop.

***

‘Hey, wake up sleepyhead!’ Chris heard Trip saying suddenly. He raised his head, self-consciously wiping the edge of his mouth.

‘Please don’t let me have been caught drooling’ he murmured.

‘You were spark out, there buddy.’ Trip grinned

‘How long.... where are we?’ Chris looked out the window. He could see the ocean.

‘Not that long, but you clocked out almost the second we left. Bad night?’

‘No, not really. I just never get the chance to relax like that, I guess. I always used to fall asleep on car journeys when I was a kid.’ Chris unclipped his seatbelt and looked over at Trip ‘So, where are we going for lunch?’

‘Place that makes the most awesome sandwiches, salads and snacky things. I think you’ll like it.’ Trip jumped down from the cab, locked his door and walked round to the passenger side. ‘No central locking in 1972, either.’

Trip led them along the jumbled rows of shops and stalls which faced out to the sparkling water. Turning left into a deeply shaded arcade, he followed it as it curved right and stopped at an open counter displaying a mouth-wateringly colourful and exotic array of salads and sandwich fillings.

They havered over their choices and combinations. Each time Trip chose something to have in his sandwich that Chris hadn’t spotted, Chris changed his order to include it. Eventually the large Polynesian-looking man behind the counter, who appeared to have endless patience with his fickle customers, handed them carefully-wrapped but absolutely enormous parcels containing their sandwiches. They grabbed a couple of Diet Cokes, paid up and called their thanks over their shoulders as they walked back out into the light.

Trip walked slightly ahead, knowing where he planned to eat and suddenly threw himself down on a narrow strip of grass, in the shade of a rather scrubby looking bush.

‘You mind sitting on the grass?’ Trip asked as he began to cautiously unwrap his sandwich.

‘No, not at all. It’s lovely.’

Chris glanced over his shoulder as he chose a spot to sit down. Boots was looking ridiculously conspicuous, perched on a low wall a few yards from them. Chris felt a bit sorry for him, having to follow their capricious and unpredictable whims. Still, he mused, it was one way to make a living and Chris was kinda glad he was there.

Chris stretched his long legs out on the dry, prickly grass and tackled the monumental task of trying to eat without spilling or choking or otherwise making a fool of himself.

It just wasn’t possible. As he was rescuing some alfalfa sprouts that had escaped onto his thigh, Trip let out a snuffling laugh and several large chunks of cucumber slid out of the far end of his own sandwich onto his lap. The pair of them simply looked at one another and burst into helpless laughter, food cascading around them onto the grass. As fast as they could rescue one thing, another seemed to fall out. By the time they had more-or-less finished eating, they were surrounded by and covered in scraps of food, smears of mayonnaise and their eyes were running with tears of laughter.

***

And so it began.

***


	8. Chapter 8

Part Eight

After the apparent chaos of the first week of filming, things began to settle into more of a working pattern. Chris arrived on set, rehearsed, shot takes, re-shot takes, re-shot them again, ate lunch from the canteen, kicked back in his trailer, rehearsed, shot and so on. Repeated in an infinite number of variations. There were location shoots in the city, in the hills, at night. Bev’s prediction about him looking back with longing to the earlier idle hours had been uncannily accurate as he found himself at 3am swathed in a blanket on a chilly roadside verge awaiting the conclusion of 36 hours of continuous work only briefly punctuated by hour-long naps in his trailer.

He’d managed to wrench his back whilst doing a close-up stunt fall from a wall, despite having followed Marco’s meticulously detailed instructions and demonstrations. Trip had laughed when he heard about it.

‘Ha, you get used to it, kid. Take the painkillers and slap on the heat pack, lie down for a day and then do it all over again!’

He’d watched Trip doing a couple of stunts as his character and been frankly astounded by what he was able to do without actually killing himself.

One morning Chris had come onto the backlot to find a huge crane and platform had been constructed, footed with a massive blue crash cushion. He saw Trip and Marco, deep in discussion at the side of the cushion, which towered above both of them. Trip looked utterly focussed as Marco used hand gestures to punctuate whatever instructions he was giving. Chris saw Trip nod once, before climbing into the cradle that raised him up to the platform at the top of the crane. He was up there for a good half hour whilst lights and camera angles were set up. Four different cameras were trained on the drop, two at ground level and two mounted on cranes. Trip was doing one rehearsal fall and one for real, both filmed, in case the practice yielded better results. Chris found himself thinking, rather bleakly, that they also filmed the rehearsal fall in case of accidents...

He shook the thought from his head and reminded himself that this was what Trip had been doing on every film he’d worked on for ten years. It was just what he did. And he seemed pretty good at it.

Marco was talking to Trip via a headset microphone, letting him know what was going on down on the ground. Eventually, everything seemed ready and Chris looked skywards to see Trip remove his headset and hand it to Mike who also stood on the platform. He moved to the edge and stood still. Sam, the director had been standing in his customary huddle of people not far off and Chris saw him grab a megaphone from someone and shout instructions to the crew so that Trip could hear. Finally he yelled skywards to let Trip know that it was all ready for him. Trip gave a thumbs up and fixed his gaze on Marco, far below him. Chris felt increasingly apprehensive as he waited for Trip to fall. Though he had no real fear of heights himself, there was something counter-intuitive about waiting for a guy to deliberately throw himself such a ridiculous distance to the ground. Albeit to a huge blue cushion...

Marco raised his arms high in the air. As he dropped them, Chris saw Trip take a deep breath and prepare, then he dived, head first from the platform. With almost balletic grace, Trip executed a roll and spin in the air, before making a perfect landing on his back, deep into the cushion. Applause burst from some of the watchers as Trip rolled towards the side of the huge inflatable, grabbed a canvas handle and lowered himself to the ground. Marco went over and once again they seemed to be discussing the fall. This time Trip was more animated, miming rolls with his hands. Chris found himself breathing heavily as his body tried to clear the built-up adrenaline.

He felt slightly heady now that one fall had been completed, almost as if he’d done the stunt himself. From this distance, Trip hadn’t noticed him watching and Chris was glad that Trip’s back was turned for it offered him the opportunity to just look.

True to his initial warning, Trip had spent a lot of time on set during that first week, just watching Chris work, move and stand. Chris was aware of the scrutiny but not disturbed by it. He knew that the best thing he could do was to continue working to give Trip the best and truest example of his movements and mannerisms possible.

However, this was the first time Chris had felt able to really watch Trip. Other than sneaked glances, they were either too close for it to feel comfortable or Chris had been working. After that first week they hadn’t been on set together very much. They’d managed to grab a coffee together once or twice at the canteen and Chris had endeavoured to turn the conversation towards things slightly more personal. Trip had seemed rather cagey though, side-stepping the question about relationships with a curt ‘I live alone’ and not even engaging when Chris tried to lightly suggest they go out for a drink one evening. It was frustrating as Chris himself didn’t really know what he was doing, whether it was the professional thing to get chummy with one’s stunt double. But he just thought they got on well and he wanted to explore that. And the guy was very cute....

Even at a distance, Chris could see the definition of Trip’s shoulders and upper arms through his grey tee shirt. He wasn’t overly muscled like Marco, but there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. His frame was slender and his waist surprisingly narrow. Chris felt his stomach do a little hitch as he imagined how it would be to put his hands on that waist and feel the firmness and strength of the muscles beneath. Then his eyes slid lower to that neat little ass, without a doubt as firm and toned as the rest of the body...

Trip was walking once again towards the cradle that had been lowered to the ground. Back up it went and there was another short delay while Sam finished checking the footage of the previous drop and slightly altering the camera angles.

Then, once again, the megaphone materialised and instructions were shouted. A brief pause as Marco and Trip locked eyes and then he was falling and tumbling in the air again. Chris couldn’t have told the difference between one fall and the other. Trip seemed to spin and twist at exactly the same points in the drop and he landed again right in the centre of the crash cushion, right on his back, emerging a moment later and climbing down as if just getting out of bed. Once again a scattering of applause and Marco shook his hand as it was clear all had gone the way Sam wanted it. Chris was about to turn away, a little concerned that he’d be caught spying but as Trip clapped Marco on the shoulder, he called over

‘Hey, Chris, wait up!’ and jogged across.

‘Didja watch me? How’d it look?’ He looked exultant and flushed. Chris guessed that falling from a great height a couple times and not getting killed would do that to a guy.

‘Amazing. Terrifying. I am in total awe.’ Chris told him truthfully.

Trip grinned. ‘Ah, it’s a job, ya know? Got time to grab a coffee?’

Chris checked his watch. ‘I have to be back in twenty five minutes so yeah, a quick one.’

‘Cool.’

They headed towards the canteen.

Over coffee and a shared donut Chris asked Trip about his stunt training and the variety of work he’d done in the past. Trip spoke with an animation that showed how passionately he loved his work. He told of how Marco and Bev had taken him in when he’d arrived in the city, after meeting Marco by chance when Trip was applying for a job at a gym. How Marco had apparently seen potential and someone who would train and work in return for board and lodging. Marco had just been setting up his business, having himself been a stunt actor. Chris noted that Trip spoke freely about himself in regard to his profession, but let out very little personal information.

Trip sat back in his chair and sipped his coffee.

‘So, you seem to be settling pretty well. You enjoying filming?’

‘Oh yeah. I’m loving it. It’s fun to play someone so completely different. Weird but fun.’

‘...and no singing or dancing’ grinned Trip, referring to Chris’ previous role.

‘I miss the singing but not the dancing so much. I gotta say though, I really should fit in a few more visits to the gym or I’m gonna lard out. At least the dancing kept me fit. I lost inches in season one!’

‘Well, Marco can give you a few pointers, I’m sure’

Chris looked doubtful. ‘I’m not sure the studio sees me pumped up like Marco’

Trip laughed ‘No, I didn’t mean...’

The image of Chris with Marco’s physique was so wonderfully incongruous that as it struck them both they once again found themselves sharing the easy laughter that had characterised their lunch trip together several weeks before.

Chris looked at his watch as he composed himself.

‘I’d better go, Trip. Um, can we catch up over pizza or something one night next week? I’m doing days...’ it was as free from pressure as he could manage as Trip had seemed to evade all previous invitations.

‘OK, I’d like that.’

‘Can I get your number?’ Chris’ heart flipped the tiniest bit as he said it. Such a classic teen romance line, the first step to who knew what...? His first real opportunity to try it out. He swiftly told himself to get a grip and pulled his cell phone from his back pocket. They exchanged phone numbers and Chris returned to the soundstage hangar, leaving Trip to finish his coffee, his heart pounding in alarm.

***


	9. Chapter 9

Part Nine

Trip slowly finished his coffee and waited for his heartbeat to slow down. Again, he’d overstepped his own mark. He’d resisted the urge to take Chris up on the offers of meals out, trips to the movies, a Saturday morning tooling around an outlying shopping mall where Chris had found a welcome sense of anonymity. But now due to another moment’s lapse in concentration and an overwhelming urge to connect with someone... it had been so long.... he was committed to a night out with Chris. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, he desperately wanted to take Chris up on every one of his offers and more. He found himself imagining how things could have been in a different life... a life in which he hadn’t been cursed with the wrong body. Or a life which could never possibly exist in which he would be accepted as he was.

He thought ruefully back to five years previously when he thought such a life existed. Naively believed that he could get close to someone and then let them discover...

Trip had got to the stage back then where he was really feeling that he’d made it.

Two years of training with Marco, helping out with the business, picking up bits and pieces and learning all the while, followed by five years as one of the company’s most requested stunt actors. Two years of a safe place to live whilst he saved enough money to put a down payment on a small apartment and move into his own place. Two years, three, four and onward, of comfort and support from Bev, whilst between them they navigated the maze of networks open to those in Trip’s situation. Support groups and websites for female to male transgender people, some useful, others not so much. The decision to start testosterone injections, the ups and the downs of watching as his body gradually and subtly altered to one which he recognised a little better. The counselling and therapy to help him accept himself and pass as a man. The voice coaching, the fascinating acting classes Marco had fixed up for him to learn a more masculine way of moving. The anguished sessions with the doctors, with the friends he’d made and with himself as he slowly, but with increasing certainty, made the choice not to opt for surgery. The tricks he learned with a chest binder, thanking the universe that once the male hormone had kicked in and with the punishing amount of time he was spending working out, he didn’t have all that much to hide. The experimentation with packing to create a realistic-looking male bulge in his pants. Trip grinned at the memory of Bev and he handling a prosthetic cock and balls for the first time. They’d squished and squeezed in wonder before finally tossing the packer back and forth between them in shrieking delight. Trip often didn’t bother now, it depended on what he was wearing and where he was going. No-one got close enough for it to be an issue...

But once they had.

The added twist that Trip had been straight as a girl and hadn’t changed his preference as a guy led to many late night rambling conversations with his transgendered friends. Many of the transmen he knew had identified as lesbian before switching so seemed to find it a little easier to find partners and playmates. If you could pass as a man and you wanted a woman, it just kinda looked right. Women seemed to have fewer issues when they found out their boyfriend was a little differently arranged from how they expected. Men? Well, men could be tricky.

Trip didn’t like to announce anything. Maybe it would have made everything easier but he didn’t feel comfortable with the whole, ‘Hi, I’m Trip and I’m a transman’ thing. He was a man. Plain and simple. He was in a body that disagreed with most peoples’ perception of the statement, but he was a man. Besides, if you went looking for love by announcing what you were, you seemed to get all the curious ones and the thrill-seekers and the frankly freaky ones. So he passed as a man and believed that when the right person came along, they would love him for what he was.

Richard had not been that ‘right person’. Not by a long chalk.

They’d met in a club, dancing together to thunderous music for several Friday nights until after closing time one night they had exchanged numbers and begun to meet up for dates. Trip was starting to fall, hard, and he worried about how he was going to tell Richard. Richard was kind, attentive, thoughtful. He bought flowers and wine. He respected Trip’s confession that this was his first serious relationship and was happy to take things slowly. It really seemed that both of them were falling in love.

One evening after a couple of glasses of a particularly nice rose, they were making out on the couch, Trip, as usual, being careful about which parts of his body came into contact with Richard’s. Richard had talked softly as they kissed, Trip had tentatively sent out feelers of a ‘could I tell you anything and you’d still love me?’ nature, all the while being convinced that Richard loved him and his physical gender wouldn’t be an issue, all the time getting more and more turned on and desperate to touch Richard, to shed his clothes and feel their skin pressed together, to have Richard’s cock in his mouth and to feel him come hard down his throat. His female body was responding in its treacherous and intense way, his cunt wet and swollen, his clit like the tiniest of cocks, hard and rubbing against his underwear with a delicious friction.

He seized the moment, pulling back off the couch, gasping with desire ‘Rich, there’s something you need to know about me...’

Rich had looked immediately alarmed, sat up and said ‘Oh fuck, you’re HIV positive’

‘No, I-I’m trans...’ It was such a tiny admission. So insignificant as they obviously felt so much for each other, so desperately wanted to touch each other...

Rich was off the couch in a second. ‘What? WHAT??? You’re a fucking WOMAN??? Is that what you’re telling me?’

‘Rich I, no, I’m... I have... I’m...’ Trip didn’t know what to say, he was so shocked and scared at the suddenness of Richard’s reaction.

Richard continued to rage but all Trip heard was the anger at having felt so misled, betrayed. He accused Trip of leading him on, of trying to deprive him of his masculinity, even of having some kind of ulterior motive to ‘cure’ his attraction to men. He went on and on and on, throwing accusations and hurling abuse at Trip and transgender people in general. He was still yelling as he grabbed his coat and backed to the door, letting himself out before practically hurling himself down the stairs in his desperation to escape.  
Trip was still gaping on the sofa, his heart pounding in his ears, his breath coming in shallow gasps, too stunned to feel anything but sheer shock.

The tears and the hurt and the anguish and the feeling that he had been so damn stupid came later along with the resolve to never let anyone into his heart ever again. Bev had listened and consoled and encouraged but the hurt had been too much. Trip made his set of rules and aside from a single brief liaison characterised by a one-sided arrangement for oral sex, that had been it.

After another few years and by throwing himself, literally, into his work and his friendships and his campervan, Trip felt he had succeeded in creating the man he truly was. No-one was allowed to come close enough to see the artifice. Bev and Marco knew, some of his fellow stunt actors knew but were discrete, the local hospital knew because they’d had to patch him up a couple of times and cutting off his shirt to tend to broken ribs kind of gave the game away somewhat.

It had worked well. Until now. Until that day Trip had caught Chris looking right at him, into him somehow, moments after they had been first introduced.


	10. Chapter 10

** Part Ten **

 

Trip finished his lukewarm coffee, vaguely aware that he’d been woolgathering as he tried to calm his nerves. It was funny, really, how something so small as agreeing to go out for a pizza should rattle him so much, whereas dropping from the kind of height most people would consider suicidal simply gave him a thrill. It was his substitute, Trip reflected as he got up. Instead of the heart-flipping, stomach-clenching excitement of getting close to another person, he’d trained his body to love what he did for a living. His daily visit to the gym was like a drug, the drops and stairfalls, car tumbles and fire-walks were his sex. Not quite the same but pretty good. It was just that nothing could replace having someone close... Trip dropped his habitual emotional shutter heavily on the thought.

 

But as he walked unthinkingly and automatically towards the hair and make-up department, tendrils of thought crept under that shutter... a half smile, a touch on the arm, a covert glance, the sound of Chris’ high laughter ringing across the lot...

 

Trip almost couldn’t see by the time he threw back the door to Bev’s little domain.

 

‘Whoa, Mister!’ She yelped in surprise as Trip practically fell into the room. ‘ _Trip?_ ’

 

He automatically glanced round for Kelly or anyone else who might be in the room and then plonked down heavily in a chair, squeezing his eyes with thumb and forefinger to clear his vision.

 

‘Hey sweetie, what’s up? You startled me.’ Bev began.

 

‘I’m an idiot is what’s up, but that’s hardly news...’ Trip spat out, his voice breathless with emotion. He remained bent over for a moment or two as he collected himself somewhat.

 

Bev folded her arms and leaned back against the counter, waiting. She knew she wasn’t going to get any kind of sense whilst Trip was emotionally beating himself up like this. He went on, looking up at her.

 

‘I’m a grade one idiot, I can’t keep my mouth fucking shut and I can’t leave well alone.’

 

Bev quirked an eyebrow.

 

‘I agreed to go for a pizza with Chris. He gave me his number and everything.’

 

‘...and?’

 

‘And nothing! That’s not enough of a fuck up? We both know how spectacularly well things work out for me in these situations!’ Trip’s voice escalated.

 

Bev hesitated a second ‘You don’t think you’re over-reacting just a little, Trip? It’s just pizza.’

 

‘Yeah, but it’s not...’ Trip once again caught her gaze and she saw the deep longing in his eyes, the pained furrow between his eyebrows. No, it wasn’t just pizza. Bev nodded.

 

‘You like him?’

 

Trip exhaled but said nothing. There was a long pause.

 

Bev shifted against the counter, unfolding her arms and reaching behind her to rest on her hands. She glanced at the floor, contemplating, and then looked up

 

‘He likes you, too, Trip.’

 

Trip’s heart clenched and he caught his breath. He swallowed the feeling down.

 

‘No, he likes who he thinks I am.’ He replied in low voice.

 

Another long pause whilst Bev studied the crumpled figure in front of her.

 

‘Just go for pizza with him, Trip. Maybe you can talk to him...?’

 

Trip shook his head slowly, a rueful smile. ‘Yeah, cuz we know how that goes.’

 

‘He’s a nice kid, give him a chance. Just have pizza.’

 

Trip looked at Bev’s reflection in the mirror. Maybe she was right. Maybe he could act well enough for it to _just be pizza,_ maybe he was over-reacting. Besides, Chris was just a kid. Trip had almost ten years on him. He had to play the adult in this situation. Trip needed to man up and teach Chris that a superstar Hollywood name couldn’t just crush on his stuntman. They couldn’t do stuff that might impact Chris’ career. They couldn’t run the risk of the press kicking the rumor mill into action. If they were seen together more than a couple of times it could get mighty sticky. And it would take seconds for some smart hack to dig up and twist Trip’s backstory into a really tasty spoiler. One night out for pizza to explain this was OK. If they were spotted, it wouldn’t be a big deal as long as it didn’t happen again. And Trip wouldn’t let it happen again. He’d re-established his role, reminded himself of the character he played in this, run through his lines and locked his heart back up in its armoured box.

 

‘Yeah, OK, I might just do that. Thanks, Bev. Love ya.’ Trip swung himself out of the chair with renewed energy, gave Bev a quick hug and strode out of the room again.

 

Reassembled, reassured and refocused.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

Part Eleven

 

The following Wednesday, Chris had taken full advantage of the perks that working for a big studio could offer. He’d got a driver, a big, black SUV and Boots to ensure the evening remained untrammelled by interruptions.

He’d called Trip at the weekend and suggested an intimate, casual little restaurant just out of town. Nothing too fancy, nothing too high profile. For all that he was happy to use the drivers and security when it suited him, the glitz and glamour of Hollywood weighed heavily on Chris’ shoulders. Trip seemed to know the place and suggested he meet Chris there. Chris was slightly disappointed at the offhand attitude and the fact that they wouldn’t arrive together but figured once they’d both had something to drink, they could always leave together.

He’d taken far more time and care over his appearance than he would ordinarily have done for a pizza with a friend. Though clad only in jeans and a button down blue shirt, he’d tried on and rejected at least two thirds of his substantial shirt collection before returning to the first one he’d tried. He realised he was buzzing with nerves as he hopped around his apartment with one shoe half on, looking for its partner. He certainly didn’t feel hungry and he wondered how he was going to eat with this fizzy, hiccuppy feeling in his stomach.

‘Get a fucking GRIP!’ He told himself as he located the shoe and sat down on the couch to fasten it. There were definite advantages to living alone.

His phone buzzed on the side table to let him know that his car was awaiting him in the parking garage beneath the block. Studio security could apparently access pretty much anything, Chris reflected, even without the zapper doohicky needed to raise the shutter. He grabbed his wallet and keys, shot a glance out of the window and decided sunglasses might be an idea. OK so they’d be redundant later when it was dark but they at least offered a little anonymity between the car and the restaurant. Carefully locking his apartment door, he bounded down the stairs to the sub-basement. He flung open the plain, grey door and peered through the cavernous gloom. The SUV was waiting for him a little further down the ramp to his left. The engine was still running. He waved to the driver who made to pull closer but Chris leaped across and forced him to brake abruptly. Boots was about to get out of the passenger door when Chris simply opened the rear door and clambered in.

‘Let’s go!’ he said breathily, aware that he was acting a little too enthusiastic.

They pulled out of the garage and into the warm California dusk. Chris settled himself back into the ridiculously armchair-like comfort of the seat and pre-thought his conversation for the evening. It was a habit. Like rehearsing real life. Usually conversations and situations in his life followed one of the paths he’d practiced. Tonight, he’d be straightforward and up front. He’d tell Trip how he felt and that he’d like to fix a proper date. Trip would protest, he had some kind of rule about not dating people he worked with, some kind of professional code of conduct. Chris would make it amply clear that he didn’t give a fuck about Trip’s stupid code of conduct and that he wanted to get closer. After a bit of heated discussion, Trip would crumble, as he had done over tonight’s arrangements, and Chris would get his own way. As usual.

Chris felt his stomach flip and clench as he vaguely sketched a few scenarios for the end of the evening. He shook his head to bring himself back to the present and idly watched Los Angeles slide past his window.

It really was pulling strings, he thought, this having the car and the security and all that. He could easily have driven himself. But then he couldn’t drink and he’d have to book a cab and there would be no cosy ride home in the backseat snuggled up... He caught himself again and smiled. Hell, why not? Snuggled up with Trip. Maybe holding hands. Maybe just thigh pressed against thigh, a hand on warm denim. He allowed his inner eye to see the curve of Trip’s chin, his jaw, his smooth cheek and the vision looked towards him, leaning in...

‘We’ll pull up out the front and I’ll come in, OK?’ Boots’ voice broke in.

‘Uh, yeah, sure’ Chris was momentarily confused.

‘Want me to wait by the bar or in the car? It looks pretty quiet tonight.’

‘Um, in the car, I guess. What should I do if, y’know, I get mobbed or something?’

Chris was half joking but remembered the claustrophobic press of fans a few times in the past.

‘Gimme your cell’ Boots commanded. He fiddled with the phone for a moment and then handed it back to Chris over his shoulder.

‘I’m speed dial on Q. Put the phone on the table and tell your friend before you order.’ Boots had done this before.

‘OK, thanks.’ Chris waited for Boots to open his door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Why was he so nervous? It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been out for a meal with the possibility of interruptions before. He could handle it, he’d be sweet and charming and sign napkins and explain Trip as ‘a friend’... cause how obvious could that be...? And so what, anyway? He hoped that by the end of the evening he’d have something for the fans and the press to really gossip about. His stomach flipped again as Boots opened the door and he entered the restaurant.

‘Er, I’m meeting someone’ he told the waiter who asked to seat him, scanning the room for Trip. There he was, right in the back corner, a table for two. Chris waved over at him, Trip raised a hand in acknowledgement.

‘Thanks’ he nodded to the waiter as he took the proffered menu and made his way through the tables to his seat.

‘Hey’ he greeted Trip, sitting down.

‘Hi. This table OK? I figured somewhere out of the way was a good idea.’  
Chris nodded, pouring himself a glass of ice water from the jug in the centre of the table. Suddenly, everything felt awkward, the jug clashed against the glass, water splashed over the rim and Chris cursed silently.

‘I am so clumsy!’ he shook his head as he mopped up the spill with a napkin.

‘So, this feels a bit weird...’ he began, ‘You look great.’ He took a slow gulp from the glass as he looked at Trip. He looked awesome. A crisp black shirt with dark grey tie knotted semi-casually below the unbuttoned neck. Clean-shaven, that smooth jawline, bright eyes framed by dark lashes... Chris’ heart pounded as he lowered his eyes.

‘Thanks, you too. Feels good to wear your own clothes, doesn’t it?’ Trip laughed.

‘Yeah!’ Chris placed the glass carefully down. ‘Even when I go out, I’m usually wearing something someone else has told me to wear. I occasionally forget how to dress myself!’ he quipped.

‘So, we gonna eat pizza?’ Trip seemed a little too business-like for Chris’ liking but he picked up the menu.

As they discussed the gourmet toppings and chose salads, the conversation began to flow a bit more freely. Chris felt heartened by Trip not ordering garlic bread but disappointed that he didn’t want to try a slice of Chris’ pizza or to order a beer.

As they tackled tall ice cream sundaes in the restaurant’s trademark fluted glasses, Chris decided the moment had come to make his move.

‘Um, Trip, can I ask you something?’

Trip dug into the bottom of his glass with the long spoon. ‘Uh-huh?’

‘Are you seeing anyone, y’know like... seeing... y’know...’ Fuck. Way to blow it, Chris.

He took a breath and made to try again.

Trip put down his spoon.

‘No, I’m not, Chris. And if this conversation’s heading the way I think it might be heading, can I just get in first with a couple of observations?’

Chris sat back, rather shocked.

Trip continued. His eyes focussed on the glass, carefully avoiding Chris.

‘If I’ve learned anything from working in this crazy-ass business for as long as I have, it’s that you have to pick your friends very carefully. You have to think really hard about who you let in and who you are seen with. You have to learn not to say the things you want to say cause it’s gonna come back to bite you, guaranteed.’

‘I, oh, right.’ Chris felt as if he was gaping like a goldfish. Like he’d been punched in the stomach.

Trip looked at him

‘You were gonna ask me out, right?’

‘Yes. I-I thought...’

‘I’m sorry Chris. I can’t. I like you but it wouldn’t be right. It’s kinda like you’re outta my league and a guy in your situation shouldn’t be seen with his stunt double. You need someone high-profile, photogenic, someone who’s used to the limelight. Someone you can be photographed with and do ‘It Gets Better’ videos with and go to swanky functions in tuxedos. I can’t do it, Chris. I’m sorry but I just can’t. It’s not a good idea. I-I can’t...’ He pushed back his chair and dumped the napkin on the table. Reaching swiftly into his back pocket, he pulled out his wallet, opened it and flicked a fifty onto the table in one deft move before rising to his feet with a broken-voiced ‘I’m really, really sorry.’

Chris watched, stunned as Trip turned his back and left.

***


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are trigger warnings for this chapter. See initial notes for details.

Part Twelve

Shit, fuck, shit, FUCK! That wasn’t how Trip had planned it. Not at all.

His eyes had blurred with tears as he strode out of the restaurant and down the street. FUCK! He felt his chest heave with sobs beneath the constriction of the compression top he wore under his shirt. He pulled uselessly at his already-loose tie, trying to catch a breath. STOP FUCKING CRYING! He dashed his eyes with his fists, almost punching the tears from them. FUCKING STOP!

He reached his van, parked in a side road, fumbled with the key and hauled himself up into the cab. He folded his arms onto the steering wheel, dropped his head and sobbed. Great gasping, heaving, agonising breaths of anguish wracked his body and his mind went utterly blank.

It was a good ten minutes before Trip was able to regain any kind of control over his body. His mind seemed to slowly surface as the sobs receded. Stray thoughts at first and then the appalling reality of how he’d just behaved to Chris. It wasn’t the speech he’d practised. That had been mature and reasoned, explaining how Trip’s experience had given him a realistic view of Hollywood and the way it chewed up and spat out people like Chris on a daily basis for much, much less than dating their stunt double. There had been a section about how young Chris was and about how he shouldn’t have to learn about relationships in the glare of the spotlight and he should have someone younger, more beautiful, more perfect...

There were tactical omissions, too. Like how ripped-apart Chris would be by the press when they discovered that he, a gay man, was dating a female-bodied person. Like how ripped-apart Chris would feel when he discovered Trip wasn’t conventionally male. Like how much Trip had just wanted to tell him the truth and to reach across that table and touch his cheek, to get up and walk round to Chris and smash their lips together in a breathless kiss...

The sobs threatened to rise again but Trip was in control now. With practised ferociousness, he crushed his feelings down, the hurt, the pain, the anguish and the passion. He slotted the key into the ignition and, focussing only on the familiarity of driving, he headed home.

Several times during the journey, he felt his cellphone vibrating in his back pocket. Part of him was desperate to pull over, take it out and answer the call. He knew exactly how the conversation would go. Then, later, as Chris started to text him, he longed to read the messages, to call him, to explain. Another part of him knew he would delete them without reading.

It wasn’t all that late when Trip pulled the camper into a parking space not far from his apartment building. He didn’t want to go home, didn’t want to spend the evening turning over and over in his head the ghastly scenario in the restaurant. He didn’t want his instinctive empathy to make him go through all that he knew Chris was feeling right now. That incomprehension at being so summarily rejected where he thought he’d read the signals so well. And he had, Trip had let out too much, he had allowed himself to lead Chris on, Trip had wanted him to know the feeling was mutual. For a brief moment he’d let himself dream that things could just be normal, that a guy like Chris would accept him, love him, even, despite... everything.

Trip sighed, gathering himself in yet again, trying to push it all down, make it all not matter. Preparing the ground for another layer of emotional concrete to block anything from bubbling to the surface.

He looked at his watch. Ten thirty, there was still plenty of time to go out and drink the evening out of his consciousness. The night was hardly starting in the clubs and bars at this time. In the minute it took him to climb down from the cab, his decision was made. He straightened his shirt, tucking it back into his black jeans, and strode purposefully up the street to the intersection where the bus stop was.

Twenty minutes later, after a ride highlighted by a malodorous woman’s diatribe against everything the modern world had to offer, including, variously, rock music, nipple rings, double glazing and ‘nancy boys’, Trip hopped off the bus on a strip full of brightly-lit club signs.

He headed instinctively towards a familiar facade. Not the night to try something new. He needed to be where people either knew him or didn’t much care. He smiled at the doorkeeper. She was a woman tonight. Sometimes she was a man. Often it was hard to tell. It didn’t much matter, thought Trip, paying his entry and descending into the sweaty basement.

The music was pounding so loudly both thought and speech were impossible. It was just what Trip needed. He mouthed silently along with the song as he made his way over to the bar. The club was already crowded with people, a colourful crowd by the looks of it, thought Trip, appreciative of the distractions. As he pushed his way through clots of people, a couple of them greeted him with smiles; one wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him full on his lips. He played along, smooching her and grasping her sequin-clad ass. As she released him, he pretended to fan his face and pointed to the bar, almost shouting ‘I’m getting a drink, you want one, Sil?’

The figure shook her platinum curls and dabbed Trip on the nose as he turned away. Everybody loved Silver, she could probably snog the Queen and get away with it. Unless the Queen found out what Silver kept neatly tucked away between her fishnetted thighs...

As he sipped his beer, Trip felt the earlier part of the evening slipping from his shoulders and his mind. He couldn’t forgive himself, wasn’t ready to apologise or explain but for a short while he could just forget. Just stuff it away in that dark and secret place where he stored everything he liked to tell himself he had processed, had dealt with but actually had just hidden. He figured he had a few years before it began to burst forth as full-blown psychosis, when the psychological hidey-hole got too full. Till then, whilst he could still hide, he did.

And he drank. It helped immensely.

By the third beer, Trip was ready to dance and he abandoned himself thoroughly on the dance floor, not caring what people thought. Fact was, most of the other people there were in the same boat. They were an amorphous cloud of grinding bodies, detached from their minds courtesy of a varied mix of substances. Trip closed his eyes and slid his ass up and down against.. he turned to check... a guy in pvc pants and a lace halter.

The boy looked out at him from beneath gelled dark bangs, his eyes heavily made up with black kohl and carefully positioned sequins and glitter. Trip caught his breath, he was a complete sucker for this look. The boy dropped his lids again and Trip grabbed his shiny, slippery hips. They writhed together, the boy holding his arms above his head, his hips perfectly in sync with Trip’s. This, now this Trip could handle. The anonymous physicality of the club, a beautiful stranger in his arms Even... he pulled the boy close to him and kissed him deeply, luxuriating in the response, feeling the warmth, the breath, the insistent tongue probing his own. He felt the boy murmur against his lips, a moan of pure unadulterated desire. The slender body pressed closer, up against his own and he ran his fingers up the lace-covered back, over the naked flesh and began threading them through the wispy hair, tightening his grip and intensifying the kiss. Trip felt his stomach twist with need, a warmth pulsing between his thighs. He wanted so much to possess this gorgeous creature, to satisfy both their desires with a raw, unbridled passion that he knew lay within him but he’d never allowed free rein.

Trip broke the contact, pulling back with a half lidded gaze, licking his lips, his breathing ragged. He slid his mouth close to the boy’s ear and asked if he wanted a drink. The boy turned his face towards Trip and mouthed ‘A drink and then you’ pushing Trip’s shoulder with a single finger.

Oh Jesus but he wanted to fuck that one till he came screaming...

***

Trip had brought the boy his beer and he had mimed that he was going outside to have a cigarette. Trip motioned for him to go and returned to the dance floor. It was an easy brush-off and one he’d used before. Plenty of people used the little smokers’ courtyard as a place to further their relationships, at least getting the measure of their prospective conquests if not actually taking things all the way. By the time the boy had finished his cigarette and drunk his beer he would have met up with another admirer and be too full of the prospects ahead of him to even remember his encounter with Trip.

Trip downed most of the bottle and returned to the dance floor. The heavy beat and the alcohol in his veins numbed the last remnants of his pain, erased the sharp edge of desire and replaced them all with a thick, dizzying lack of sensation.

Trip danced and drank until he knew he was on the verge of oblivion. His steely instinct to retain basic control always kicked in before he really lost it and at about 3am he kissed goodbye to the small group of complete strangers with whom he’d been dancing and made his way back up the stairs and out into the warm night air. The night buses were very few and far between but it wasn’t such a trial to wait for them on a balmy night like this. They ran along a different route from the one he’d taken earlier and Trip began to walk, a little unsteadily, towards the less well-lit end of the street.

Small knots of people were also passing along the sidewalks, many screeching drunkenly and occasionally stumbling into the road. It was a wonder more of them didn’t get hit by passing vehicles, Trip mused as he walked.

He became vaguely aware that a group was walking behind him, approaching quite quickly. He automatically shoved his hands deep in his jeans pockets, hunching his shoulders up. They’d pass him by in a moment, ignoring a guy walking along minding his own business.

Only, that wasn’t their plan.

As they came closer, Trip heard a murmured comment which ended in the phrase

‘...fuckin’ QUEER.’

His heart sank. Not this, not tonight. He quickened his pace but the group easily caught up with him. One of their number sidestepped into his path, stopping him.

‘You a fucking QUEER? Huh, gay boy? You like it up the ass?’ He accompanied his challenges with lewd thrusts of his pelvis. His three friends laughed and took up the refrain.

‘Fuckin’ ass bandit...’

‘Shit stabber... pervert...huh, gay boy? You wanna fuck me in the ass? Huh? You like a piece of this?’ A denimed behind was waggled in front of him.

Trip sighed and faced them.

‘No thanks, I don’t want a piece of your skinny ass. But thanks for offering, now can I go? Have you had your fun?’

It was like he’d lit a fuse. Suddenly a fist hit him in the face and then a foot to the stomach. Trip was taken so completely by surprise that he doubled over. He didn’t even manage to get in a punch at any of his attackers before he felt himself being dragged off the main road and into an alley or a side street. He didn’t know which, but they kept on with the hitting and kicking. Pain began to bloom all over his body and he felt himself greying out. He tasted blood and heard snatches of abuse spat with venom as each blow hit home.

Suddenly he was aware of a hand grabbing his crotch and he tried to cry out in panic and alarm

‘No, please, no...!’

But it was too late.

‘Hey, this ain’t no fucking guy, he’s got no fucking dick!’

Trip felt the buckle of his belt being wrenched open and rough hands dragging his jeans and underwear down. His head connected with the concrete as his feet were pulled out from under him. Again he desperately tried to cry out but managed only a strangled moan as his legs were pinned apart and the first attacker began forcing his way in.

Blackness swam across his vision and Trip felt the pain, the humiliation and the world slip away.

***


	13. Chapter 13

Part Thirteen

Chris hadn’t slept much. Every time he tried to close his eyes, his mind raced with thoughts about the scene in the restaurant. He swung from anger to hurt to incomprehension to something approaching rational understanding of Trip’s outburst. It just hadn’t seemed like the same person that Chris had got to know over the past few weeks. Trip had been a bit detached during the evening but Chris had put that down to both of their nerves, they’d loosened up a bit as they talked. But that speech over the ice cream, that thorough rejection for what seemed like stupid reasons, and Trip’s voice cracking like he was about to cry as he apologised and left.

He just didn’t get it. Besides, who did Trip think he was, dictating who Chris should be dating? He might be younger but he was perfectly capable of making his own decision on that one. He did what he wanted and the press and the fans and Hollywood and the rest of the fucking world could just go get screwed.

He flipped to the other side of the bed and reached in the darkness for his phone. As it powered up, he checked for new messages, missed calls... a handful of each but nothing from Trip.

Chris typed up another text: ‘call me when you get this, please, I need to talk’ and fired it off to Trip’s number. He lay the phone back down on the nightstand and collapsed onto the pillows.

In his mind’s eye he could still see Trip’s face across the dinner table. The hair, styled like his own, the delicate features, crystalline blue eyes ringed with long, dark lashes, the snub nose that he wanted to tweak and the full lips... Chris had planned for those lips. He could imagine exactly how they would feel pressed against his own. Softly at first, but then with more pressure, more passion, breath, tongue, a moan...

He coiled up with frustration and hurt. He wanted Trip so badly. Where had he gone wrong? Why did an evening with so much promise turn out so awful? Who the hell in their right mind would reject him??? A tightness in his chest and throat caught him off guard and he gulped. Somehow though, the tears wouldn’t come, there was too much anger underlying the hurt, too much that he just didn’t understand. And there was a determination not to give up. This one was worth fighting for. This one felt like nothing ever before, no-one had ever made Chris feel this way, and so quickly, no-one had ever got him so obsessed, made him laugh so much or made him want to surrender so fully to his desires, to lose control...

The phone on the nightstand vibrated.

Chris snatched it up, eagerly looking at the screen before connecting the call. Shit, it was only Marco. What the fuck did he want at 5am? Chris picked up.

‘Marco?’

‘Chris? Um, Chris, I’m at Mercy Hospital. It’s Trip, he’s been attacked... he’s in pretty bad shape, I-I think you might wanna come down...’  
Chris sat up instantly, his heart in his throat, his whole body tense

‘What?? Is he OK? What happened? Oh my God...’

‘Just get down here, Chris.’

‘I’m on my way, right now’

‘Chris? Drive safe, y’hear’

‘’K, bye’

He ended the call and flung the phone down, leaping off the bed and flicking on the overhead light. He grabbed whichever clothes he’d discarded the previous evening and threw them on, tearing out of the apartment, stopping only to snatch up his phone and keys.

Running down the stairs to the parking garage, Chris’ mind began to re-engage. What had happened after Trip left the restaurant? Where did he go? Who had attacked him? How badly hurt was he? Oh God, what if... no, that wasn’t gonna do anyone any good...

He tried to slow his frantic breathing as he pulled the car up the ramp and into the half-light of dawn. The street lights were still on and Chris switched on his headlights, navigating carefully through the still-empty city. The hospital was closer to the studio than the restaurant.

Chris wondered again why Trip had been taken there, had he gone somewhere else after leaving? What had happened? How long after Chris had got home was Trip attacked? Why hadn’t he just answered his phone?

As he pulled into the hospital parking lot, Chris was seized by a wave of panic that left him shaking. What if this was his fault? What was he about to find inside? What had they done to that beautiful, brave man...?

Chris pushed open the door to the main reception area, not even thinking that he should go to the Emergency entrance, and blinked in the searing fluorescent light. Marco spotted him entering and began to come over, Chris saw Bev behind him.

Questions burst from Chris in a torrent, Bev held his arm as Marco stood in front of him and let him finish. He gestured for Chris to come and sit down on one of the chairs in the deserted waiting area.

‘OK, Chris, try to calm down, I need you to listen.’ Marco’s voice was low and steady, Chris found himself responding and his breathing slowed.

‘Just... how is he?’ Chris whispered.

‘We don’t know for sure at the moment. He’s unconscious. He was attacked by a bunch of guys on the way back from a club early this morning. They messed him up pretty bad. He has a few broken ribs, fractured wrist, some internal bleeding and a bad head injury. They just have to wait and see how that one turns out. He’s got a lot of bruises, facial contusions... and uhhh..’ Marco trailed off, looking in desperation at Bev.

‘Chris... did Trip say anything to you last night?’ Bev began.

‘Yeah, quite a lot. He left. Oh God, if this is because of something I said...’ Chris dropped his face to his hands.

‘No, no, it’s not’ Bev took his hands down from his face and held them between her own.

‘Chris, did he tell you about himself?’ she gently asked.

‘Tell me what?’

Bev looked anxiously up at Marco, standing over them both. He crouched down level with Chris.

‘You need to know something Chris, it’s not really my place to tell you and I wouldn’t, but you need to know.’ Marco took a deep breath as Chris looked up at him.

‘Chris, Trip is a transman, he’s physically female... and these guys, they uh, they raped him. Four of them...’

There was silence as Chris sat frozen, staring blankly at Marco.

‘Oh God. Oh God.... Oh my God...’ Chris raised his hand to his mouth, his whole body shaking again. The words had just evaporated from his brain. The information he’d just received was such a shock, too huge to comprehend, too much.

He felt Bev put her hand on his shoulder as Marco stood back up again.

Chris swallowed.

Slowly, understanding of what he’d just heard began to filter into his mind. The horrific reality of what had happened to Trip utterly eclipsed the truth that Marco had just revealed.

There was a long pause and then Chris asked, his voice barely audible,

‘Can I see him?’

‘I’ll go find out.’ Marco headed over to the desk on the other side of the lobby.

Bev wrapped her arms around Chris as he began to crumble, the pent-up tears from earlier and the fresh ones from now suddenly pouring down his cheeks as his body released all the night’s emotions. Words tumbled from him as he wept on Bev’s shoulder.

‘It wasn’t my fault, I wanted to be with him and he didn’t... and he left, and now this and... oh God, Trip. Bev, I want him to be O-O K...’

Bev tightened her hold, rocking him gently

‘OK, Chris, it’s OK, it’s not your fault, it’s awful but it happens, Trip’s strong, he’ll get through this, c’mon baby, it’s OK...’ She kept up the soothing words as she stroked his back and held him until he was able to calm his hitching breath and pull away from her arms. He wiped his eyes with his palms, like a child, and straightened up. He looked into Bev’s face and murmured softly

‘It doesn’t change anything, y’know.’

Bev clasped his hand tightly and pressed her lips together, holding back the rush of feelings threatening to engulf her.


	14. Chapter 14

Part Fourteen

Marco came over to Chris and Bev,

‘They said we can go in for a few minutes. They’ve moved him to an observation room and he’s under guard at the moment.’

Marco noticed Chris’ eyes widen

‘It’s pretty standard procedure in cases like these. They’re treating it as a hate crime. Also, if he wakes up they need any information he can give as soon as possible’

‘So no-one knows who did it?’ Chris asked

‘No. He was found by someone passing, probably a couple hours later. But they have DNA...’

Chris winced as the realisation of how that evidence had been gathered struck him.

‘Poor Trip, it must have been awful. God, I can’t imagine...’

‘They think maybe he was unconscious already, there’s no suggestion that he put up a fight. And Trip would have put up a fight...’ Marco grimaced wryly.

‘Four guys? How could anyone fight four guys?’ Chris shook his head.

A blonde nurse approached them and smiled.

‘You want to go in and see Trey? I can only let you in for a couple of minutes... sh... he needs peace and quiet right now.’ She covered her inadvertent and understandable slip in pronoun well.

‘Trey? Jeez, I didn’t even know his real name!’ muttered Chris, almost to himself as they set off along the corridors.

The nurse stopped by a curtained cubical, a uniformed police officer sat close by. Several similar areas with the curtains pulled back lined a short corridor facing a nurses’ station where a couple of other staff sat working. It was obvious that whoever got to sit there spent their time listening for changes in the various beeping instruments lining the opposite wall. Only one regular beep sounded from within the drawn curtains.

Once again, Chris felt apprehension rise in his chest.

‘He’s pretty beaten up’ the nurse was saying ‘He has contusions on his face and neck and... pretty much everywhere. But he’s breathing on his own, which is good and he didn’t lose too much blood. Which is also good. You wanna come in?’ She gestured to Chris and he stepped forward, through the gap in the curtain that the nurse was holding back for him.

The figure in the bed didn’t look like Trip. It didn’t look like anyone. It hardly looked human.

The left eye was swollen and shiny and red. Red and blue cuts and bruises covered the face, the lip was split in a black clot. There was a bandage covering the back of the head, where it rested on the pillows and an ominously purple hand-shaped shadow bloomed on the neck. The bare shoulders seemed untouched but the firm, defined biceps each had darkening bruises around them. The left arm was in a cast from below the elbow and a cannula sprouted from the back of each hand.

Chris just looked. He couldn’t help but turn over in his mind what he now knew about the... man lying on the bed before him. What lay beneath those thin covers. A very slight rise at the chest was the only clue and that was barely discernable. And elsewhere... Chris could only think of what had happened earlier that morning. Four men. Four men reminding Trip of something he probably was all too aware of and probably wanted to forget.

Something seemed to click into place inside Chris and he found himself more certain than he had been before.

This man was definitely worth fighting for.

He walked across to the bed, pausing to examine Trip’s ravaged face. Leaning down, he placed a soft kiss on a clear patch of forehead and whispered

‘I’m not giving up on you, Trip’

He turned away, pushing back the curtain to let Marco and Bev go in.

He found the blonde nurse filling in papers at the desk. Glancing at her name badge, he asked

‘Paula, might it be possible for me to come visit him early and late each day? I have a pretty busy work schedule but I want to come see him.’

Nurse Paula looked at him and formed an instant picture in her mind of their relationship. Her features softened.

‘Of course. What times can you manage, hon?’

They agreed on before 6am and after 9pm for the coming week. Chris was pretty certain the studio only needed him for day shoots. Paula said she was on the morning shift and Nurse Jackson would be there in the evenings, she’d let him know. Then...

‘Aren’t you...’ she smiled shyly

Chris nodded ‘Yes, I am. Autograph?’

She blushed ‘Just for my kids, y’know, they think you’re the best thing since Lady Gaga.’

Chris grinned

‘High praise indeed! So who’m I making this out to?’

He signed two sheets of notepaper for Paula’s children and then added one more especially for her. She beamed.

‘Thanks, Chris, I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early. Oh and...’ she paused ‘I think he’s gonna be fine, y’know. I really do. Just give it some time.’

Chris looked up at her hopefully.

‘Yeah? Thanks, Paula. Take care of him, huh?’

‘Sure.’

Chris walked over to where Bev and Marco were standing, holding each other close.

‘I’d better get off to work. Thanks for calling me, Marco. And thanks for being there for him. I’ll catch you later, call me if there’s any news. Anything at all.’

Marco nodded and socked his arm gently, Bev kissed her hand and touched it to Chris’ cheek.

He smiled in understanding and headed back towards his car.


	15. Chapter 15

Part Fifteen

Chris spent the day entirely focussed on his work. The character he was playing was serious and thoughtful, an intelligent business man with action-packed extra-curricular activities. Much of the action and location work had been filmed, leaving the greater part of the studio work to do. It was hard work but Chris relished the sheer concentration it took him to completely inhabit the character. At eight that evening, as the final scene for the day wrapped, he felt like he had awoken into himself again.

It was an awakening that left him exhausted.

Instead of staying to chat about the day with the rest of the cast and crew, he left abruptly and returned to his car. As he approached the parking lot, he heard a shout behind him.

‘Hey, Chris! Wait up!’ Sam the director was running after him.

‘I heard about Trip, you know how he’s doing?’

‘Yeah, I went to see him this morning. Not good. He’s unconscious still. They just have to wait, I guess.’

Sam shook his head ‘Fucking awful. How could someone do that?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘You gonna see him?’ Sam raised an eyebrow in enquiry.

‘Yes, I’m going now.’

‘Well, let me know how he’s doing, huh? He’s part of the team, I’ve known him a while.’

Sam placed a hand on Chris’ shoulder, almost reassuringly,

‘He’s a tough guy, Chris. He’ll be OK. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Sam swung round and returned towards the sound stage, leaving Chris puzzling.

Exactly how obvious had he been about his feelings...?

***

He was still turning thoughts over in his head as he drove towards the hospital. It was the first opportunity he’d had to really consider at length the events of the last twenty-four hours. As he sat at the lights, he realised the probable reason for Trip’s reluctance to get involved. Everything suddenly made sense. It was less to do with the whole ‘don’t date your stuntman if you’re a big Hollywood name’ and more to do with ‘If you’re a gay celebrity, don’t date someone the press will figure out is a woman’. Chris snorted with ironic laughter and he pulled away into the traffic. He’d didn’t think he’d ever met anyone whom he considered as wholly masculine as Trip. The guy was fit, built and muscled in a subtle but seriously distracting way. He did the kind of job that most men would baulk at. Jeez, he even refused to commit or give a straight answer when confronted with the possibility of a situation which might leave him vulnerable! Chris’ heart constricted a little at this. His response to the memory of the rejection was even more intense now than it had been last night. It hurt. It really hurt. As he increased his speed on the open stretch of road, Chris tentatively began to consider all the implications of his newly-acquired knowledge. He played devil’s advocate, forcing himself to rethink all the natural assumptions upon which his attraction had been based. Trip had a female anatomy. He had breasts and a cunt. Bound and downplayed, Chris guessed, but there nonetheless. He examined his own reaction and was surprised at the ambivalence he felt. He tried again to provoke himself and imagined touching Trip’s body, his... femaleness... Again, a slight sensation of unreality. Not ever really having experienced it, he couldn’t rule it out as abhorrent, by any stretch. His thoughts meandered back to the absolutes: Trip had obvious facial hair, a slim but recognisably masculine physique, his voice was lower than Chris’ own. Chris guessed at regular testosterone treatments and suppressed a slight thrill as he remembered Trip’s forearms, firm, muscled and veined to the backs of his hands... Those were not female arms. Chris shook his head. He was a guy... Why would Chris feel so strongly, be so attracted to him if he wasn’t?

This testing process was utterly counter-productive.

He’d been trying to put himself off. Trying to see Trip as a woman and thus short-circuit his feelings but it didn’t work. As far as Chris was concerned, right now, Trip was as much a man as he himself was. A warmth crept into the pit of his stomach and curled up there like a cat, purring softly. Yes, Chris thought. That felt so right.

The tricky stuff he’d deal with as and when (and if) it arose.

He navigated into the smaller streets that led to the hospital parking lot and began to worry. It was all very well to sort out his own feelings but Trip was still lying in there unconscious. What if he had some kind of brain damage? What if he could no longer work? What if he didn’t wake up? The nervous shaking that had wracked him the previous morning threatened to overwhelm him again but he reigned himself in. No, Trip was going to be OK and he was going to be there for Trip when he awoke, he wasn’t going to confirm any of Trip’s fears about how the world would react or about how he himself would react. He was going to be the one to prove to Trip that he was worth being loved.

Woah. Where had that come from?

 

He pushed open the doors to the hospital lobby. Heading over to the main desk, he realised that regular visiting hours had probably been over a while ago so he tentatively began to explain his agreement with Nurse Paula to the woman at the desk. She tucked a strand of iron-grey hair behind her ear and checked a list on the monitor in front of her.

‘Do you have some identification?’

Chris pulled his wallet from his back pocket and showed his driver’s license. The woman critically compared the photo with his face. Chris felt kind of glad they were being vigilant, all things considered.

‘OK, that’s fine. You know the way?’

Chris realised that he had very little recollection of how to get back to the corridor Trip’s bed was on. He’d been too tired and shocked that morning to remember much except broad, intense flashes. He shook his head.

‘Not really,

The woman gave brief, simple instructions, navigating him by a door colour here, a department sign there until Chris felt he knew more or less where he was going. He thanked her and set off, hearing her lift the receiver of an internal phone to let someone know of his impending arrival.

In fact, he found the ward with greater ease than he expected. He recognised certain corners that had he’d noticed that morning, noticeboards filled with bright posters and signs.

Up ahead, he saw the desk and opposite, Trip’s curtained cubical. A different police officer sat in the nearby chair. A thickset man with a jovial brown face greeted him as he approached.

‘Hi, Chris, I’m Jackson. Paula told me to expect you.’

‘Hi, Jackson. Thanks for letting me come out of hours. How is he?’

‘No significant change. It’s just a case of waiting, I’m afraid. He’s stable and breathing on his own but the coma condition hasn’t changed.’

Wait. What? Coma?

‘Coma? I thought he was unconscious? Like knocked out?’ Chris asked, his brow furrowed.

‘Yes, but that’s often very temporary and the person can be roused. Trey’s had a bad knock to the head which probably rendered him unconscious but there may be something else keeping him in a comatose state. It might be the head injury, could be shock, it can happen that severe emotional trauma can trigger it simply to stop the brain having to deal with something that’s too much to handle at the time. That’s why it’s a bit of a waiting game, Chris.’

‘Oh. So it’s not necessarily indicative of brain injury or anything?’ Chris asked tentatively.

‘No. His scans didn’t show up anything significant, no bleeding, no real swelling. Just a pretty bad bump.’

Chris let out a breath.

‘That’s good, right?’

‘It’s certainly not all bad. I know you probably want answers but I’m afraid it’s not quite that simple. He’s stable, and we’ve patched up all we can. After that we just watch and wait. You wanna go in?’

‘Yes, thanks...’ Chris drew back the curtain, then paused, looking back at Jackson.

‘Is it right that he can hear me like this?’

Jackson smiled ‘Often people who come out of coma do say they heard conversations or music that was played to them, yes.’

‘Thanks’

It was just what Chris needed to hear.

***


	16. Chapter 16

Part Sixteen

Chris almost tiptoed up to Trip’s bed. He had a strange feeling of not wanting to wake him, as though he was asleep. The second he got close enough to see how much the morning’s bruises had darkened, though, he knew Trip wasn’t peacefully sleeping.

The injuries seemed to have worsened. The hand print on Trip’s neck somehow seemed the most shocking. Someone had grasped Trip so hard by the throat to hold him still or press him back that they must have virtually crushed his windpipe. Chris’ hand fluttered involuntarily to his own throat as he imagined how painful that must have been.

Trip had been dressed in a cotton hospital nightgown so the bruises on his biceps were no longer visible but Chris remembered them from that morning and a grotesque vision hit him of a pair of hands gripping each arm savagely tight whilst a third and fourth man... He stopped his too-vivid imagination right there. His throat constricted and his brows drew down in pain. It didn’t do anyone any good to imagine that.

But he could almost feel it. He hurt for what Trip had endured. He wanted to take it away, to make it all better. He felt utterly powerless. What could he do?

Chris sat down next to the bed and hesitantly took Trip’s right hand in his own. He was worried about taking liberties. Just cause the guy was unconscious... comatose.... didn’t mean he had the right to touch him or anything. He thought back to the kiss he’d placed on Trip’s forehead and hoped it was excusable. He allowed his hand to simply rest beneath Trip’s as he began to talk. Hardly even whispering at first, he started to open his heart in faltering phrases.

‘Hey, Trip. I’m so sorry this awful thing has happened to you. I’m so sorry that you left last night and that I made you feel uncomfortable. I didn’t know why. I just didn’t. You can’t blame me for that. You didn’t let me in. I understand why now, I do, but how could I have known?’

He took a breath. This wasn’t going well. But maybe Trip couldn’t hear him. Maybe this wasn’t for him anyway, maybe he just needed to talk to himself aloud for a while.

‘I was fascinated by you when I first saw you. I looked at your arms and thought how strong they looked. I totally checked out your ass when I walked behind you. That first time and every time after that. I watched you move, watched how you use your body, like you are in control of everything. Nothing you do is accidental, you fall and you know exactly where each bit of you is going to land. That’s incredible to me. And a turn on. I remember when you were having your hair done and I just sat and watched. I could almost feel those tiny hairs on your neck...’

Chris broke off at the realisation that those tiny hairs were inches away from him. Yet somehow he couldn’t reach out and touch them. It would be something of a violation. No. Not that. More like trespassing. He needed permission.

‘You make me laugh so hard, Trip. You just seem so comfortable in yourself and with me. So confident. Your inner strength is so reassuring somehow. You never seem to be unsure of anything. You know exactly what to do. I’d have believed you when you told me that we couldn’t see each other. You do know about these things and now I understand why you said it but... I can’t stop myself feeling like this, Trip. You make me feel the most... When I’m with you I... I...’

He trailed off, suddenly self-conscious, not quite ready to tell himself the next bit of the conversation. But he could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

He looked at the battered face resting on the pillows. There was a certain femininity about it, now he was looking for it. The smooth jawline he’d admired so much, softer and more rounded than it could have been, shaded now with just a little stubble. Those full lips that he had imagined pressing against his own, split and swollen but still with the promise of sensuality. That little nose... Chris became aware that he’d never looked at anyone this closely, this intimately before. He was able to examine without fear of making Trip uncomfortable, without making himself feel self-conscious. He continued to look, committing every miraculous plane of Trip’s face to memory. And the more he looked, the more beauty he discovered, the more he realised that masculine and feminine had very little to do with it. It was all about aesthetics and knowing the person behind that face and hearing his voice and his laugh and watching him move...

‘I wanna talk with you, Trip. I want to hear your story. From you. I want to know what’s really underneath that incredibly convincing facade. I want you to know that you can trust me. I don’t want you to ever think you have to hide stuff from me again.’

Once more, Chris’ voice faltered. He felt like he was jumping ahead. This kind of admission was for further down the line, surely? It was so intimate. Half of him hoped he was talking to himself. Half of him wished desperately that Trip had heard. He’d spoken without thinking too much. He wasn’t sure he could do that if Trip was awake fixing him with those blue eyes...

Chris looked at his watch. It was past ten. He needed sleep and he still had to work the following day. Carefully pulling his hand out from under Trip’s he stroked his finger over the skin at the base of Trip’s thumb. The back of his hand was criss-crossed with adhesive tape holding the drip feed tube secure. Chris wondered what they were putting into him. Saline? Medication? He didn’t know but something within told him that Trip’s unconsciousness was a form of safeguard. He would hate being restricted, held still and so out of control.

‘I’ll be back tomorrow. Sleep tight.’

Feeling somewhat emotionally vulnerable, Chris decided against another kiss. Maybe he should try and keep things on a no-touch basis until Trip woke up and actually gave his assent. Or otherwise.

As he left the curtained room, he turned to the police officer seated in the corridor.

‘Excuse me, can I ask what you guys can do to find the people who did this? What you can do by sitting here?’

Chris suddenly realised how that sounded and made to correct himself.

‘Sorry. I-I mean...’

The officer interrupted

‘No, I understand. It’s standard if the assault is deemed to be a hate crime to have an officer with the victim to guard them in case of reprisals and to get the details and evidence when the victim’s ready to talk. The sooner after the assault that we can get the information the better.’

Chris nodded.

‘So when he wakes up, you’ll be asking him straight away what he remembers?’

‘If he’s ready to talk, yes.’

‘And if he’s not?’

‘We wait.’

‘OK, thanks.’

‘You’re welcome, sir.’

Chris said goodbye to Jackson and walked back through to the hospital lobby and out into the night. A light rain had begun to fall, cooling the warm summer air and raising the scent of road dust and soil from the decorative planted beds in the parking lot. Chris wearily located his car, climbed in and headed for home with a heavy heart and an aching sense of unfulfilment.

***


	17. Chapter 17

Part Seventeen

Three days passed. A weekend occurred which Chris agreed to work through in order to fill his time. He fell into something of a routine. He would get up early so he could visit the hospital before heading to the studio. Then, after he’d finished work for the day he would spend an hour or so by Trip’s bedside before returning home. Sometimes he felt like talking, other times he would just sit and think. He didn’t very often allow himself the opportunity to sit and do nothing but think. His life seemed altogether too rushed for that. Just for the moment though, he’d decided to simplify his commitments. He wasn’t going out, he was cooking for himself, he was working hard and he was spending time with Trip. Albeit increasingly unsatisfactory and despairing time.

But he didn’t want to stop.

The Monday after Trip had been attacked, Chris was on set, not actually involved in the take, but busying himself with watching the process and learning from his fellow cast members when he felt his cellphone vibrate in his jeans pocket. He was startled, as on a regular day, his phone would be off and in his locker or back at his trailer. There was no excuse for a take being ruined by some actor’s ringtone sounding from their costume pocket. It felt odd to be connected to the world from within the studio. Chris rose from his chair and quietly padded to the back of the hangar before checking to see who had called. Marco’s name hovered on the screen. Chris immediately exited the building and half-ran to his trailer, speed dialling Marco’s number as he went.

‘Hi, Marco? It’s Chris.’

‘Chris, I wasn’t sure if you were shooting but thought I’d call. He’s awake.’

‘That’s great! How is he?’ Chris hoped fervently that it was great.

‘He’s hurting and he has a lot to process but he seems to be OK.’

Chris let out an audible sigh of relief.

‘Shall I come over?’

Marco seemed to hesitate for a moment.

‘Well, the cops wanna talk to him first if he’s up to it and the doctor says he’ll need a rest after that. He’s in a lot of pain, physically and emotionally. Can you hold off till this evening? Maybe six, seven?’

Chris was impatient but Marco made a lot of sense. There was no point in putting Trip through too much. The guy had only just woken up and found out he’d been violently sexually assaulted and that he’d missed nearly four days of his life. Chris’ wants and needs could wait.

‘Yeh, sure. You think that’ll be OK, Marco? Think he’ll be up to it?’  
‘Let’s see, Chris. He’s literally only been awake forty-five minutes or so. The doctors are checking him out. Bev and I were here so we got to say hi. But they’ve kicked us out now. I’ll call you a bit later, OK?’

‘OK... Marco...?’

‘Yeh?’

‘Uh, thanks, y’know for calling me.’

‘No problem. Bye’

Chris clicked the disconnect button. That wasn’t what he’d wanted to say.

He’d wanted to say ‘Send Trip my love’ or ‘Tell him I’ll be there soon’, but he realised that whilst he had been examining and clarifying his own feelings over the past three days, Trip had last seen him in the restaurant. Just before he swept out and left Chris alone with the remains of an ice-cream sundae. And a lot that wasn’t anything to do with the events of that evening had happened to Trip in the meantime.

A wave of tiredness washed over Chris as he lay back on the couch in his trailer. The relief of knowing that Trip was awake and apparently lucid was immense. Chris closed his eyes for a moment.

***

The production assistant who came looking for him a little later had been concerned when there was no reply to her knock so she peeped in. Chris was fast asleep on the couch. She scurried back to Sam to ask if she should wake him. Sam shook his head.

‘Nah, we can sort it tomorrow. That’s a wrap guys. Thanks.’ He heaved himself out of his chair and stuffed a cigarette from a soft pack into his mouth, barely waiting until he got to the smoking area to light it. Sometimes, you just needed to bunk off for a bit.

***

A police detective had arrived as soon as the officer on guard had radioed in that Trip was awake. He was with Trip for less than twenty minutes. Trip vividly recalled the first part of the attack. He was able to give facial and clothing descriptions of three of the men and to recall a certain amount about what had happened. The officer admired the frank and honest way in which the victim was able to describe how they had discovered his female anatomy. He was secretly rather glad that Trip had no recollection of the rapes, though he had known as soon as they began to remove his pants what was about to happen. The detective could remember few other cases in which he had felt such pain for the victim.

Bev had sat by Trip’s side as he talked with the detective in a quiet but surprisingly clear voice. She marvelled, as always, at the inner strength of the young man she’d supported though some of his most challenging circumstances.

After the police had gone Bev took Trip’s hand, carefully avoiding the needle taped to the back of it and gave him a reassuring smile.

‘How’re you doing, babe?’

Trip’s voice lost the clarity from earlier as he allowed the front to drop.

‘I hurt. Breathing is hard. I can’t open my eye.’ Trip’s voice sounded as though he were holding back sobs but it was just too painful to catch a breath.

‘Shh, just lie still. Don’t talk. It’s OK. I know it hurts.’

But Trip wasn’t about to lie quiet. He spoke in snatched gasps.

‘Did you tell Chris? Does he know I’m here?’

Bev gathered herself together. She was rather worried about Trip’s reaction once he found out exactly what Chris had been told, how much she and Marco had needed to let out.

Trip sensed the hesitation and turned his head painfully towards her.

‘What? What’s happened? Is he OK?’

‘He’s fine Trip. He’s been here every day, morning and night. We called him when we first heard. He came right over. He’s been coming by before he goes to the studio in the morning and after he finishes in the evening...’

Bev broke off as she heard Trip moan. It wasn’t clear if it was a sound of physical or emotional pain but he turned his head away.

‘Did you tell him...? About me?’

‘We had to, hon. He needed to know. He had to be told what had happened to you. You know we wouldn’t have done it under any other circumstances. God, Trip, us of all people...’

‘I know. It’s OK.’ Trip sounded resigned. As if another door in his life had just quietly closed.

‘Trip, I think it’s OK. I think he’s OK. He’s been here every day for you.’

If Trip had been able to let out a contemptuous snort, that’s what the noise he uttered would have been. As it was, he could barely exhale.

‘Bev, that evening ended really badly. Not just this. I acted really terribly. I may have the sympathy vote. But....’

Trip was finding it harder and harder to draw a breath. The pain seemed to be tightening his ribcage in a vice. He’d fractured ribs before, broken bones, been battered and bruised but nothing that had felt like this.

‘D’you want me to see if they can give you something for the pain?’ Bev asked, realising that Trip’s steely resolve would most likely prevent him from admitting he was struggling.

‘No. Thanks.’

But she got up anyway. Her sympathy vote was beginning to be rather stretched by his stubbornness in the face of such an obvious dead cert.

The staff nurse that Bev spoke to suggested that Trip should get some rest and tactfully implied that Bev ought to go home for a while. Bev took the hint and told Trip she was going to start fixing dinner for Marco. As she was turning to go, Trip spoke

‘Bev?’

She returned to the bedside. Trip looked up at her with his one open eye, the other completely swollen closed.

‘Thanks. I really needed you. Thanks for being here. Sorry this happened.’

Bev just kissed his forehead. Now wasn’t the time to address his misplaced guilt.

‘See you soon, babe. Get some sleep.’

As she was leaving, the nurse returned with a small syringe which she attached to a valve high on the drip stand. She spoke to Trip as she depressed the plunger.

‘This’ll make the pain feel a bit better, you’ll also get quite drowsy. Take a nap, OK?’

Trip tried to nod but he was already quite content to close his one open eye and concentrate on breathing. He waited for sleep to descend and tried desperately not to think about the violation he’d suffered, about how it had torn down the self he had built, about how it made him feel broken, damaged... paradoxically emasculated.

He was asleep in moments.

***


	18. Chapter 18

Part Eighteen

Chris awoke late in the afternoon, refreshed but a little disoriented. His heart began to pound as he wondered if he’d been needed on set. Then he reassured himself that someone would have come knocking and woken him up. He slowly raised himself off the couch, his body stiff. A few stretches and things were a little more mobile. Then, checking his watch, he straightened his clothes and left the trailer, heading for the soundstage.

He was surprised to find so few people about at what wasn’t a late hour. He asked some technicians where Sam was and the consensus had seemed to be that he’d been called away shortly after Chris had left. Eventually Chris located a young man with a clipboard, who checked the schedule sheet for the day and confirmed that Sam was off set and Chris could probably leave. It seemed so entirely random that a whole film crew and cast could simply evaporate that Chris was a bit puzzled but he decided to take advantage and head out to the hospital as soon as he could.

Although Marco had suggested he call before leaving, Chris decided to simply turn up and take his chances. If Trip wasn’t up to a visit he’d leave a message or wait or.... he realised that actually he had no idea what he’d do if Trip wasn’t able to see him. He wanted to see Trip so much he hadn’t considered the very real possibility that it might not be reciprocated.

Fuck it. Faint heart never won... whatever.

He’d woken up completely and was excited about the prospects ahead as he climbed into his car. A heady optimism filled him. He just needed to communicate that he was determined to break down Trip’s resistance. That he wasn’t giving up or going away. He had a vague feeling that he was going to be more than a little irritating. But Trip could probably use a distraction or two. Chris deliberately didn’t check his rather tactless and overly sunny mindset. Awful things had happened. Trip had been badly hurt and ...all that... but he was awake! He was conscious! He wasn’t in a coma anymore. The healing could begin.

The Disney elf inside his head danced with an obscene length of crepe bandage whilst warbling saccharinely upbeat snatches of song.

Sleeping in the afternoon certainly seemed to have a positive effect on Chris’ mood.

***

Forty minutes later, Chris sat at Trip’s bedside, in a pose to which he’d become accustomed, watching Trip sleep.

But sleep, just sleep. Not coma.

Jackson had greeted Chris when he arrived, telling him that Trip had been given some pretty knockout painkillers about three hours previously and would likely surface fairly soon. Chris was more than happy to wait. He was getting used to it.

Trip suddenly shifted in the bed, uttering a broken cry and twisting his right arm. Chris worried that the movement might dislodge the cannula which held the drip so he reached for the hand and held it gently.

‘It’s OK’ he murmured instinctively.

At the touch and the sound of Chris’ voice, Trip took a short sharp breath and opened his right eye, trying and failing to get the left to catch up. He exhaled with an ‘Ah’ of pain and turned slightly towards Chris.

‘Hey’ Chris smiled.

‘Hey’ Trip replied, moving his hand away from Chris’.

‘I was just stopping you from ripping your drip out, that’s all.’

‘Oh. Thanks.’

‘You have a good sleep? I thought maybe you were dreaming.’ Chris tried to keep it conversational but it was kind of awkward admitting that he’d been watching Trip sleep.

‘I dunno. Maybe’

‘It’s weird...’ Chris began ‘...I never realised how still someone could be when they’re unconscious and how much they move when they’re asleep. They’re totally different states.’

‘I guess.’

‘I’ve been here a couple times a day, to see you.’

‘Yeah, Bev said. Uh, thanks.’ Trip took a visibly painful breath and tried to find the best and briefest way of letting Chris off the hook.

‘You really didn’t have to... waste so much of your time on me. I was pretty rude the other night.’

‘I wanted to be here, Trip. Nobody forced me. I choose what I do with my time. I chose to be with you. I chose to be with you because I was concerned, I was scared you wouldn’t wake up, that you had brain damage. I was terrified that the funny, brave, handsome man that I so much enjoy spending time with wasn’t coming back. Bev told me about you, the first night here, that you’re transgender and you know what shocked me the most? Not that. It was what they did to you that shocked me and hurt me the most...’

Chris paused and looked at Trip’s face. His eyes were closed and his breathing shallow. He looked suddenly very pale. Chris reached for his hand again.

‘Hey, you still with me?’  
Trip’s eye opened and he nodded. ‘Yeah, I’m here. No place to be right now.’

‘Good. Because I intend to take full advantage of the fact that you are completely incapacitated to talk about myself for a bit. I’m not stupid. As soon as I knew your big secret I understood why you’d behaved like that in the restaurant, why you constantly sent out mixed messages and then ran for the hills. Trip, I like you. I am attracted to you. It seems to me you’ve made a fine art out of pushing people away before they blow your cover. I’m sure I’m not the only one you’ve done it to. But I am not giving up. Not when I feel like this. And not when I think you feel the same. Tell me the truth, do you like me? Am I right?’

Trip closed his eye again and in the smallest voice replied:

‘Yes. Yes, I like you.’

Chris exhaled.

‘Thank you. Thank you for being honest. I know it’s really unfair of me to hit you with this now but if you were on full power we’d never even be having this conversation. I just wanted to hear you say it. I’m gonna go and let you rest now. We can continue another time. Tomorrow maybe.’

Trip turned the hand that Chris was touching until he was able to hook his thumb around Chris’ little finger.

‘Will you stay?’ he asked clearly.

Chris tucked his finger into Trip’s palm.

‘Of course. As long as you want me to.’

They remained still and silent, finger and thumb intertwined until Chris felt the gentle pressure of Trip’s hand relax and his breathing slow in sleep.

***


	19. Chapter 19

Part Nineteen

 

Trip slept fitfully until about three the following morning. He was wrenched from sleep by sharp pains in the sides of his chest. He tried to move to better position himself but only managed to trigger more pain in his arm, his sides and a dull, burning ache between his legs.

In the half-light of the hospital night, surrounded by curtains and knowing that there were people close by, Trip allowed himself to succumb to dark thoughts. Four complete strangers had attacked, beaten and raped him. Four men had violated the part of his body which he’d almost managed to forget. Ten years of living without a full length mirror in his apartment, ten years of wearing compression shirts and binders to hide breasts that had all but turned into pectoral muscle, ten years of habitually ignoring the void at the juncture of his thighs... all gone in one night. Yes, the androgens he injected had lowered his voice, helped him to build muscle, stimulated hair growth that was not to be believed but they didn’t change the fundamental fact that in the eyes of four guys out on the town, he was a woman.

Trip hadn’t had this inner turmoil in a long, long time. He followed some of the good advice from hours of therapy, he went to Bev when he began to spiral into a depression and she was usually able to perk him up. But mostly, he kept himself to himself and didn’t allow difficult situations to arise.

Well, a few difficult situations seemed to have arisen lately.

Trip tried hard not to let his thoughts turn to Chris. He wanted to immerse himself in self-pity for a while. He felt he deserved it. After all, he had been born into the wrong body, endured a childhood and adolescence of withdrawal and misery, been rejected by his parents, found an identity that was closer to his own but had to repel any kind of closeness in order to preserve it and now was lying, aching, in a hospital bed thanks to four men who firstly objected to his sexuality and then to his gender identity...

And he hadn’t fought back.

Pain shot through him as he felt his breathing start to hitch. He tried to stop the sobs but couldn’t prevent hot, angry tears from rolling down his bruised cheeks. Trip felt entirely broken, as if his whole existence had been crushed, his self had been demolished. He didn’t hear himself uttering a keening moan that alerted Nurse Paula, he could now barely even feel the agony about his chest as he cried with his whole body, heart and soul.

‘Hey, what’s up?’ Paula had hurried into the cubical as soon as she heard Trip’s moaning cry. She checked the monitor beside the bed and took his wrist, pressing the back of her other hand gently to the side of his neck.

‘Trey? Trip? It’s Paula here, what’s going on sweetie?’

The sobbing figure on the bed didn’t seem to notice her so she tried again:

‘Just let me know if you can hear me, Trip. Nod your head. I need to know if you can hear what I’m saying.’

Trip nodded.

‘OK, now try to calm down and let me know what’s wrong. Is something hurting?’

So much was hurting, Trip didn’t think he could bear it. The least of it was physical.

‘Do you need something for the pain?’

Trip shook his head once, with surprising vigour. Paula sensed that there was something to get to the bottom of here.

‘C’mon, try to breathe, it’s OK, you’re OK.’

She sat on the edge of the bed, still holding Trip’s wrist, until eventually the storm of sobs calmed and her patient began to breathe a little more easily.

‘That’s better. Now, you wanna tell me what started all that? You have a bad dream?’

Trip shook his head again and gasped

‘My fucking life is a bad dream.’

OK, Paula thought. Fair enough, all things considered.

‘You’ve had a rough ride but I think you’re on the mend.’

Trip figured that she was referring to the most recent events only. There was no reason at all to put her right. He wasn’t on the mend. He’d just been broken all over again.

Paula tried a diversionary tactic.

‘I think the doctors are going to let you out of here in a couple days or so. They just want to keep you under observation for a little longer, get you up and about and eating a bit...’

Trip looked up at her.

‘Really?’

‘Yep. You’re basically OK. A bit knocked about, but now we know that bump on your head didn’t do any permanent damage there’s no reason to keep you here. You might as well go home to recover. You’ll be more comfortable in your own place.’

Trip seemed to digest this piece of news for a moment. Paula went on

‘Bev and ...is it Marco...? Said they’d come help out. And I’m sure Chris will too...’

Paula eyed his reaction carefully. A tiny parting of his lips as she artfully dropped Chris’ name into the comment. Ah she’d missed her vocation. She should have done psych nursing. Bang on with that one. She continued

‘He’s been in here every day, even when you were out cold. Am I out of line suggesting there’s something special there?’

Trip tried not to let his heart give that little skip as he remembered the previous evening. He was just so tired of keeping it in, holding it all back. Others may have physically kicked him though he was more adept at battering his own feelings into submission. But he was weary. It was like the emotional outburst of a few minutes ago had taken all the fight from him.

‘No you’re not out of line.’

‘Mmm-Hmm...’

‘What?’

‘I was just hoping for some dish...’

Trip couldn’t help but smile at her. It hurt his mouth and his eye to do so but she was acting so unlike a nurse and so much like... like... a friend.

‘Not much to dish at the moment.’

‘Oh, c’mon! It’s pretty darn apparent that he’s got the hots for you, and he is cu-te!’ Paula extended the word as she raised her eyebrows at him. Trip attempted another smile.

Paula was congratulating herself on having successfully lifted her patient out of the dark mood he’d evidently been in. He was even smiling. Just a little more and then she’d suggest a bit more pain medication and some sleep.

‘So where are you two at then, huh?’

‘Well, personally, I’m still trying to resolve...’ Trip took a breath ‘...a thirty year battle against my own body...’ another breath ‘...when that’s done...’ breath ‘...maybe I can let someone else in.’

‘Oh, I see.’

All joking aside, Paula settled in for a counselling session that didn’t look like it would allow either of them any rest for a while.

‘Tell me.’


	20. Chapter 20

Part Twenty

 

With barely a fortnight of filming left before the movie went into post-production, Chris found his schedule was easing up a little. The day that Trip was discharged from hospital he found that he had an entire day free from commitments and offered to drive him back to his apartment.

The doctors had decided to keep Trip in for three more days after the night of his long talk with Paula. She’d discussed his state of mind with the consultant who had arranged for Trip to get some extra counselling sessions. Gender therapy was a particularly specialist area and it seemed serendipitous that not only did the hospital have excellent links in the field but that Trip’s medical insurance covered it.

Trip wasn’t sure if it was the night spent talking in breathless phrases with Paula or the three ‘emergency attack’ therapy sessions but he began to feel on a much more even keel. His habit of constantly pushing people away and ignoring difficult issues and squashing his feelings had surfaced immediately as the greatest barriers to healing both his long-held hurts and the more recent ones. The therapist didn’t ask any questions about how Trip had come to a realisation of his true gender identity or what his childhood had been like. He just seemed to accept things were as they were. This was surprising but rather refreshing. They talked about his decision against surgery and Trip’s rather anguished spiel had been met with a simple ‘Lots of guys choose not to’ before they moved onto other matters. He had even begun to be able to process the guilt he was experiencing about not having been able to fight off his attackers.

When Chris arrived at the hospital to pick him up, Trip was dressed and sitting in the lobby, a small black overnight bag on the floor beside him. Jackson was nearby with a plastic bag containing a couple of blister packs of pain medication.

Chris raised a hand in greeting and Trip waved his left arm, still in its cast. He no longer sported a bandage around his head but there was a visible bald patch at the back which revealed a nasty-looking patch of raw skin. Trip’s eye wasn’t as swollen as it had been only days earlier but it was the most incredible range of colours. He looked as if he’d been made up in elaborate stage style. But only on one side. Chris smiled as he approached.

‘Mmmm love the colour scheme! Purple and yellow are so this season!’

Trip laughed and then caught himself

‘Argh! Don’t make me laugh!’

‘Sorry. You ready to go?’

Trip turned to Jackson ‘Am I ready to go?’

‘Yup, all set. Two of these no more than four times in twenty-four hours and we’ll see you back here in a week for a check up, OK?’

‘OK. Thanks for everything.’

Jackson ducked his head.

‘It’s what we do, Trip. You take care now, y’hear?’

‘I will’

Both Trip and Chris shook Jackson’s hand and they turned towards the door, Chris picking up the bag as he went.

Trip squinted in the brightness of the light even though it was a relatively cloudy morning. Chris noticed and offered him the sunglasses off his own forehead to wear.

‘Thanks’ Trip said, glancing at them before putting them on ‘Mmm, Dior. Swanky.’

‘Yeah, well. I am a film star, y’know.’ Chris quipped as they crossed the parking lot.

‘Oh, I know.’

His metallic blue two-seater was parked in the central block of the lot. He fired the key and the doors unlocked with a satisfying clunk. He whisked round to the passenger side and opened the door with a flourish for Trip.

Trip hesitated.

‘Uh, it’s kinda hard to bend without using my arm...’ he began

‘Shit, sorry, here let me help’ Chris slipped a hand beneath Trip’s right arm and took his weight as he slid painfully into the seat.

‘Thanks.’ Trip said, looking up at him.

‘Those sunglasses suit you way too much. You may have to keep them.’ Chris grinned before closing the door and popping the trunk open for the bag.

As he settled himself into his seat he realised that Trip was unable to reach and secure the seat belt so he gestured at it

‘Want me to do the belt up?’

‘Please. Sorry to be so difficult.’

‘Don’t start that.’ Chris braced his right hand on the seat back as he reached across Trip with his left.

In the moment it took him to locate the belt, Trip raised his right hand to the back of Chris’ head, pulled him close and kissed him firmly on the lips.

Chris pushed back on his right hand but stayed close.

‘Well, that was unexpected.’

‘D’you mind?’ Trip looked scared behind the sunglasses, lowering his hand quickly to the seat.

Chris smiled, ‘I’m not sure, let’s see, shall we?’ and, lifting the sunglasses carefully from Trip’s nose, he leant in, slowly and with infinite tenderness and pressed their lips together once more. As he pulled back reluctantly he whispered

‘No, no, I think I can handle it.’

He finally managed to get the seatbelt fastened despite his fingers shaking and his mind racing and they sat in silence for a moment, both staring straight ahead.

Trip put the sunglasses back on and took a shaky breath. Chris looked over and smiled.

‘Wow. Just wow.’

He keyed the ignition and reversed the car out of the space.

‘So, you’ll have to direct me as I have no idea where you live.’

For the entire drive all that passed between them were directions and comments about the scenery.

Chris’ heart was singing but his better judgement told him to pace this thing. Trip was rigid with habitual terror and the effort to keep his body as still as possible to avoid painful turns and jolts.

He could still taste and feel Chris on his lips, though.

***


	21. Chapter 21

Part Twenty-One

As they pulled up outside Trip’s building Chris noticed the campervan parked further down the street.

‘No garage, huh?’

‘No. There’s usually plenty of space on the street if you time it right. Everyone’s off at work now.’

Sure enough, Chris was able to park almost right outside the entrance. He once again came round to the passenger side and helped Trip out. Locking the trunk he followed Trip up the steps and waited as he fished his keys out of the inside pocket of his jacket.

They entered a cool, spacious lobby with a stair rising before them. Chris automatically looked for the elevator as he wasn’t sure how Trip would manage stairs but he couldn’t see one anywhere.

‘No elevator, I’m afraid. I’m on the eighth floor. Ready for a slow climb?’ Trip smiled ruefully.

‘Sure. You take it easy, OK? We’re not in a hurry.’

Trip had already begun to ascend, gripping the rail with his right hand. As they reached each landing, he paused long enough to let his breathing slow so it wasn’t so painful. Chris imagined that prior to the attack Trip hadn’t even thought about this climb at all, much less had to rest between floors. He began to get just a little more insight into the impact the last week’s events must have had on him. It suddenly struck him with peculiar clarity that the broken ribs must be preventing Trip from doing whatever he did to ensure that the top-half of his body looked so convincingly male. As Trip rounded the corner at the top of the flight of steps ahead of him, Chris allowed himself a surreptitious glance in the direction of Trip’s chest. He was wearing a loose, black tee shirt beneath a black and grey linen jacket. It was almost impossible to see anything of what lay beneath. Chris momentarily berated himself for being so nosey. But he was just curious. The irony of the word was not lost on him. But he wasn’t being some kind of weird gender-tourist. He just wanted to know, to understand Trip’s experience of his world. He wanted so much to be an important part of it.

Trip was waiting for him on the next landing up.

‘Come on, I’m the one with the broken ribs, not you!’

‘Hey, I was being thoughtful and not rushing you!’ Chris threw back.

‘Yeah? I could still reach the top before you, broken ribs or no broken ribs!’ A little of Trip’s old spirit seemed to return to his voice.

‘You think? C’mon then!’ Chris teased, bounding up the steps to catch up. Trip made to leap ahead, twisted awkwardly and folded forward, holding onto the banister for support.

Chris wasn’t sure if he was laughing or crying.

‘I wasn’t serious!’ he uttered in dismay, peering at Trip’s face to check he was OK. Trip cautiously straightened up, a smile on his lips. He winced as he took a breath

‘Neither was I!’

He exhaled and

‘I hate this, I fucking hate this.’

‘I know. So let’s take it easy, OK?’ Is it the next floor up?’ Chris gestured aloft.

‘Yeh. Number 812’

Chris walked alongside him for the remaining flight of stairs, matching Trip’s agonisingly slow steps with his own.

The eighth landing was identical to the seven before it. Pale grey painted walls, grey glossy tiles on the floor and brightly lit square panels let into in the ceiling. It was so lacking in character or design feature that Chris almost wanted to scuff his shoes on the floor or put muddy handprints all over the walls. But hey, no-one actually lived on a landing. Why should it have anything remarkable about it? He cast his mind back to some of the many, many hotels he had stayed at, across America and Europe. Admittedly, he would rather have stayed on the landings of some of those places than in the rooms... He realised that Trip was waiting for him in a doorway further down the hall.

‘This is me’ he said as Chris approached.

Chris was suddenly irrationally terrified that Trip was simply going to thank him for the ride, grab his case and close the door but Trip held the door open for him and gestured him inside.

‘I’m not sure what state it’s in.’

Chris stepped ahead as Trip closed the door behind him. The apartment looked spotless.

Trip led him along a short hallway into an open-plan living area. It was decorated and furnished entirely in black and white with gleaming chrome metalwork. One wall was filled with a massive bookcase and a huge picture window led out onto a small balcony, commanding a view of similar apartment blocks and rooftops, hills hazy in the distance.

‘I think Bev did some cleaning for me when she came to pick up my clothes.’ Trip said, looking appreciatively around the room.

Chris was checking out the view. He turned round and placed the bag he was still carrying down beside the black leather sofa that was facing the window.

‘This place is really nice. I love the decor. Oh...!’ he pointed at a side table ‘I have the same lamp!’

Trip grinned ‘I love art deco stuff.’

‘Me too.’

‘Make yourself at home. You want some coffee?’

Trip had moved into the little kitchen which was separated from the living area by a black marble-topped bar. Large flecks of glitter sparkled in the counter top. A nice touch, thought Chris.

‘Coffee would be great. You want a hand there?’

Trip shook his head, opening the freezer door and taking out a frosted chrome canister.

‘Nah, I’ve done this before.’ He glanced across at Chris, wondering if he’d caught the faint sarcasm.

‘Look, I didn’t mean... I wasn’t’ Chris tried to excuse his over-attentiveness.

‘It’s cool, Chris, relax. Go look at my books or my view or something.’ Trip opened the fridge, idly wondering what he was going to do for milk.

He found the fridge was stocked with basic essentials, milk, bread, fruit and vegetables. Bev had even been shopping for him.

He filled the stainless steel kettle, only wincing slightly as he lifted it and set it on the stovetop to heat. Ordinarily he’d put the coffee machine on but he kind of wanted to do things properly with Chris here. Reaching into a mercifully low overhead cupboard he gingerly lifted a glass and chrome cafetiere and two matching cafe cups. He measured out the coffee and went to see if he had anything he could offer in the way of cookies.

What the fuck was he thinking? He never had cookies anyway. He didn’t snack. He was silently cursing himself for not keeping a pack of choc-chips tucked away for social occasions when he noticed a plastic clip-top container next to the microwave. It didn’t look familiar. Unclipping the lid with his one good hand he peered inside. There was a note in Bev’s rounded handwriting:

‘This is to share’

It lay on top of a homemade chocolate cake. The woman was fucking psychic!

Trip cut two generous slices and placed them on plain white plates. Then, after struggling briefly with the hot kettle, he managed to fill the cafetiere and carry the items one at a time to the counter.

Preferring to do things by himself in his own home, Trip stubbornly carried cups, milk, coffee and two plates of chocolate cake to the side tables by the sofa one by one while Chris watched the painful process from his position near the bookshelves.

Finally Trip gestured for Chris to sit down before carefully lowering himself down to the sofa. He let out a sigh.

‘God, I am exhausted.’

‘I’m not surprised.’ Chris replied, reaching for his coffee ‘You’ve just gone from almost total inactivity to charging up eight flights of stairs and being the host with the most.’

‘Yeah, I guess. I hate being tired, not being able to do stuff for myself.’

‘That’s self-evident.’ Chris took a bite of the cake. ‘Oh my God, where is this from? It’s gorgeous!’

‘Bev left it as a welcome home gift. She said I was to share it.’ Trip looked across at Chris.

‘Did she know something I should be aware of?’

Chris shook his head ‘I don’t think so. I mean, she’s pretty clued-in when it comes to you.’

‘...and you.’ Trip added.

‘What d’you mean?’ Chris looked puzzled.

‘I dunno. She seems to have an agenda for us.’

‘She and me both.’ Chris took a drink from his coffee, eyes fixed upon Trip over the rim.

Trip looked down.

‘Maybe we should have the talk.’

Chris balanced his cup on his knee, still holding it.

‘Maybe we should.’

***


	22. Chapter 22

Part Twenty-Two

‘So, where do I start? What d’you want to know? You kinda got my big secret...’ Trip spoke awkwardly, picking at the frayed ends of the fabric covering his cast.

‘You know one of the weirdest things? I didn’t even know your real name until that morning...’ Chris began.

Trip wrinkled his nose.

‘Some would say it’s not even my real name.’

‘Yeah but you know...’

This was going to be so full of mis-steps and awkwardness, Chris decided to just power through.

‘Trip, I can’t begin to know yet what you’ve been through, what your life has been like and what is the right and wrong thing to say to a guy like you but I want you to know that I’m on your side here, OK? I genuinely want you to feel like you can let me in, to trust me. I’m bound to fuck up sometimes and I apologise for that in advance. It’s new to me, the whole trans thing. Fuck, the whole thing is new to me, I’m not gonna lie to you. It’d become very apparent very quickly...’

Great. Now they both felt defensive. He tried again.

‘So, your name is Trey. Why did you choose that name and why ‘Trip’?’

‘OK, Q and A I can handle.’ Trip took a breath and spoke quickly ‘I was called Tracy before and Trey seemed close to that. I liked it and I discovered later that it means ‘three’ which kinda fits with me not being fully one or the other. Trip is because my middle name was Rebecca but I now use Robert and my last name is Parkes. My initials were always TRP and someone in school read it once as ‘Trip’ and it kinda stuck...’ He paused. ‘Next?’

Chris grinned. Maybe this wasn’t so awkward after all, Trip had obviously done this before, he seemed pretty comfortable reeling off the information. Perhaps he’d been in therapy.

‘Right, um... can I ask when you began... um, how did you first... God, when did you start living as a guy, how did you make that change?’ It felt like treading on eggshells. ‘Was that a terrible question?’

‘No, it’s a really, really normal question. But I didn’t change. I was always a guy, if you can understand that. It was just like putting something right that had always been wrong. I dressed kinda unisex all through school but when I moved here it seemed to be the right time to transition. Bev and Marco were amazing. I couldn’t have done it without them. They supported me completely. My parents had kicked me out.’

‘Oh... I’m sorry. That must have been hard.’ A bit of the puzzle dropped into place.   
Chris took a mouthful of coffee.

Trip gave a lopsided shrug.

‘Yeah, it was hard but I guess it was the kick I needed. It’s worked out OK for me. I started T, testosterone, began training and working with Marco so I never had to explain too much to anyone in terms of work. I chose not to have any surgery but I had a great doctor who signed all the forms and stuff and I got my name and gender changed on my birth certificate and everything. That doesn’t always happen if you haven’t had the full, y’know...’ Trip mimed scissors with his fingers ‘...You understand why I’m kinda cagey...’

He was looking down, refusing to meet Chris’ eyes.

‘Why did you decide against surgery?’ Chris was starting to feel a little more comfortable about asking. Trip was licking chocolate frosting off his fingers as he replied.

‘I was going to have top surgery to start with but after a while it didn’t seem worth it. I was passing fine just binding and I kinda didn’t want to compromise my work by taking time off. It was never much of an issue for me, I don’t have a lot up top...’

He sat forward, smiling slightly, and opened his jacket.

‘Cause I’m sure you were totally wanting to check out my boobs.’

Chris almost choked on his cake. Trip ignored him and continued.

‘And the bottom stuff, well, I dunno. It never seems to be convincing enough. I’ve spoken to guys who’ve had it done and a couple of them say they wish they’d saved the money. One guy had a lot of problems and ended up worse than before. So I just figured I’d leave it...’

Chris watched closely as Trip seemed to register the full impact of his decision on the events of a week ago. He was silent as he picked up his coffee, drained the cup and placed it back on the table, taking care to position it, turning it so the handle stuck out perfectly to the right. He went on,

‘You know what they call it? Having bottom surgery?’

‘Yeah, phalloplasty, right?’

‘No.’ Trip smirked ‘Adadictomy!’

He started to chuckle and immediately stopped himself with a yelp. ‘Ow, I have to stop being so funny, it’s killing me.’

Chris laughed along. He’d heard that one before but hadn’t expected right it at that moment.

‘Jeez, Trip, you’re crazy! How can you do that?’

‘Do what?’

‘I dunno, just make a joke out of something like that. After... everything.’

Again, the half shrug. Trip carefully rested himself back in the creaking leather of the sofa.

‘I guess I get tired of taking it all so seriously. I don’t go deep. It’s too much trouble.’

He was suddenly overtaken by a huge yawn and immediately apologised profusely to Chris.

‘You wanna go lie down for a bit?’ Chris asked. ‘You should really rest up. I can go if you want.’

Trip felt another yawn coming on and resisted it.

‘I’ll go lie down. Would you mind... I’d really like it if you’d stay, Chris. If you don’t have to be anywhere.’

Trip sounded so uncertain that Chris’ heart constricted. He wondered how many times he’d have to indicate his concern and care and ...whatever else he was feeling before Trip would believe that he wanted to be here. He figured there was a lot of past unpleasant history to overcome. He stood up and moved to face where Trip was sitting. Crouching down in front of him, Chris placed his hands on Trip’s knees and as gently but as firmly as he could he said:

‘Trip, I told you before. I will stay, I will go. I will do whatever you want or need me to do. I know you hate being out of control. I know you hate letting someone else into your life, your space. I know you’re probably all kinds of scared that you won’t even admit to yourself. I know I’m terrified. But I wanna be here for you. And even if you push me away, I’m gonna keep coming back.’

‘I do hate it. I feel like I’ve lost all the strength I worked so hard to build up. Having you say that makes me feel so vulnerable, and I don’t do vulnerable. I do tough and macho and...’

‘...and lonely.’ Chris interjected.

Their eyes fixed on each other for a moment before Trip slid his down again.

‘Maybe.’

‘Trip, I’ve gotten used to people babying me over the last few years. Treating me like the little brother, the sweet, funny, cute one with the girly voice. I love that I can be strong for someone else for a while. Let me be strong for you. Just here, now. No-one needs to know.’

Trip looked up and caught his gaze again, steady and unwavering and was overwhelmed with an unfamiliar feeling. He felt exposed and vulnerable and open and...safe.

‘OK. But you must promise not to tell!’

Chris smiled and rose to his feet. Offering his hand, Trip took it and Chris helped him off the sofa.

‘Could you help me get this jacket off?’ Trip asked and Chris obliged, laying the jacket down over the arm of the sofa. Trip toed off his Converse and led Chris back down the hall to a monochrome bedroom dominated by a king sized bed with a deco-style stepped headboard. Trip sat on the edge of the bed and slowly lifted his legs up as he swivelled and lay cautiously back against the pillows, turning his head slightly to avoid pressure on the wound. He was so grateful to Bev for having tidied up. He knew for a fact that he’d left the bed rumpled and unmade before he left for the restaurant that night.

‘Want me to get you anything?’ Chris asked.

‘No thanks, I’m good.’ He stopped and then seemed to make a decision before continuing.

‘I’d like you to stay. I want to tell you about something that happened a while back.’

‘Sure.’ Chris took off his shoes and went round to the other side of the bed.

‘OK if I sit by you?’ he asked. Trip nodded and moved his cast arm closer to his body. Chris settled onto the bed and moved the arm back to where it had been, keeping his fingers covering Trip’s.

‘I’m listening.’

Trip closed his eyes and began to speak in a soft, low voice.

‘A few years ago I met this guy called Richard...’

***


	23. Chapter 23

Part Twenty-Three

Once Trip had finished the brief recount of his failed relationship and subsequent reluctance to get involved with anyone, Chris felt like he had a slightly clearer picture of the man who now slept beside him on the bed.

Having to try and live within so many self-imposed boundaries and rules must have been exhausting. He thought back to the fun they’d had when they first met. Back when Trip had felt they still had a safe distance between them. Being friends wasn’t a problem. The moment he realised that both he and Chris felt something a bit deeper, Trip had automatically recoiled. It made so much more sense now.

Chris sighed.

He just didn’t understand why Trip hadn’t been open about himself. Surely it would have solved more problems than it would have created? Then Chris considered a moment longer. If Trip wanted to be recognised as a man, he wasn’t going to go telling everyone about the things that would negate that. Chris thought back to Trip’s assertion ‘I was always a guy...’ and the labyrinthine tangle of contradictions unfolded before him. Trip was a man, a real man in all but body. But what does the world judge gender on? The appearance of a person’s body... Chris couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to be caught in such an unending loop. No wonder Trip had made the decision to opt out of anything that might dislodge his artfully constructed persona and life. But for so long? How had he managed?

A new sense of awe for the strength of this man filled his heart.

Chris raised himself up on his arm and looked at Trip. This spying on him when he was unaware was becoming a bit of a habit. The black tee shirt now clearly showed the contours of Trip’s body. The unbound chest revealed so little that was discernibly female that Chris suddenly felt ashamed of himself for looking. He just looked like a guy. He had reasonably significant pecs. They went with the pleasingly defined (though still bruised) biceps emerging from the shirt’s sleeves and those in turn went with the forearms... Chris raised himself a little higher to catch a glimpse of Trip’s unbroken arm on the far side of the bed. Still the dusting of hair, catching the light, the slightly raised veins, the evident firmness of well-toned muscles beneath the skin...

Trip stirred in sleep and moved the arm to his stomach, resting his hand near the waistband of his jeans. A small band-aid covered the place where the drip feed had gone in. The knuckles were scabbed, the fingernails short and neat...

Chris followed the line of the fingers down beyond the hem of Trip’s tee shirt. There lay the most obvious difference, behind that zipper... Chris looked closer... those buttons, he corrected his thought with a tiny thrill. There was something about a button fly...

He mentally retreated. He wasn’t going to think that one through just yet. One step at a time. He’d just settle for imagining how his own hand would feel in place of Trip’s on that taut stomach. He wanted so much to just reach out and touch the body beside him, to explore its similarity and difference. To be close, to discover, to awaken both their senses...

He had a feeling that would take quite some time to happen.

But then he really hadn’t expected Trip to kiss him in the car. His stomach flipped as he thought back to that moment, the hand on the back of his neck, pulling him in close, the softness and warmth of Trip’s lips, the slight snag of the still-swollen place where he’d been hit, the taste of him...

Chris rolled over onto his other side and sat up. If he lay there any longer, thinking thoughts like that, he’d be onto the slumbering figure beside him, kissing the living shit out of him, broken ribs or no broken ribs.

He padded softly back into the living room. The sun was pouring in through the picture window, it was getting very hot. Chris searched for a key to unlock the door to the balcony. He checked what would have been his first choice of hiding place, on the top shelf nearest the window and, sure enough, he felt a small set of security keys on a split ring. He unlocked the top and bottom bolts and the handle and slid the door wide. A warm breeze swept into the room as Chris stepped outside. He could hear traffic from the nearby main road but otherwise it was pleasantly quiet and calm. He decided to find a book to read whilst he waited for Trip to wake up. Maybe he’d even fix some lunch for them.

Going over to the vast bookshelves, Chris scanned the spines. Lots of graphic novels, a handful of Clive Barker, evidence of several years’ subscription to movie magazines, hardback sets of Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings, Tales of the City... the list went on. At one end of a shelf, hidden behind an obviously hand-made model of a TARDIS, he found what he’d been looking for: a well-thumbed collection of paperbacks bearing titles such as ‘Just Add Hormones’, ‘Gender Outlaw’ and ‘Transgender Emergence’. He picked the first as it sounded a little lighter in approach, he wasn’t ready for the full therapeutic guide just yet, and took it over to the sofa to read.

***

An hour or so passed. Chris exchanged the book for an Iron Man graphic novel and when he had finished that, he decided to forage for food.

The little kitchen was meticulously well-organised. Each cupboard he opened contained neatly stacked white crockery or boxes and tins arranged in size order. After exploring all the cupboards Chris opened the fridge. There was a bag of salad, a loaf of pleasingly wholesome-looking seeded bread, a paper package contained what looked like ham, a jar of mayo and some tomatoes. All that was needful for a good sandwich. He set to work fixing several rounds of sandwiches and stacked them on two of the white plates. Beginning to feel quite at home and possibly humming just a little, he found two small glasses and filled them with orange juice from the fridge door and then turned to place the whole lot on the glitter-topped counter...

‘Oh Jesus, you scared me!’ Chris shrieked.

Trip had been watching him for a little while, leaning with one hip against the counter, a half smile playing on his lips.

‘Sorry’ Trip said ‘I was enjoying watching you work. You can come again.’

‘Thank you. You have a good nap?’

‘Yeah, really good. I’m gonna take some of those pain meds though, my head is killing me.’

‘What, where you hit it?’ Chris was concerned.

‘No, just a headache. I think I’m a bit dehydrated. I usually drink a lot more water.’

Trip picked up his jacket from the arm of the sofa and took out the bag containing the medication. He popped a couple of pills out and swallowed them with a gulp of orange juice.

‘You want some lunch? Hope you don’t mind that I made myself at home.’ Chris gave a vague all-encompassing gesture.

‘No, it’s fine. A bit weird for me, but fine.’

Trip pulled out the two bar stools which were tucked under the counter and perched on one of them. Chris remained in the kitchen and ate his sandwich standing.

Though they ate their sandwiches companionably enough, it felt uncomfortable somehow. Like neither really knew how to proceed, what the next step should be.

They both felt that maybe they were just taking a breather after some pretty intense scenes.

***


	24. Chapter 24

Part Twenty-Four

The four weeks that followed were frustratingly uneventful and at the same time pleasantly undemanding. Chris finished up the major part of filming. As the movie went into post-production, he was called back in to reshoot a few small sections and to record additional dialogue. By the end of the fourth week he was free of commitments and looking forward to taking a break.

He’d been visiting Trip a couple of times a week. They watched DVDs and talked, cooked meals together and gradually got to know each other’s likes and dislikes, tastes in music and film. Trip seemed to be more the person he had been before but Chris had a strange sense that he was spending time with an actor who just couldn’t shake off a character he had been playing. From time to time, the veneer would crack just a little and Trip would plead pain or exhaustion and Chris would tactfully leave him to rest.

The bleak stairwell resonated with his frustration and incomprehension as he pounded down the stairs after each farewell.

***

Soon, Trip felt well enough to manage the stairs again and they would go for walks around the neighbourhood. Trip was missing his workouts and any chance he got to do any kind of exercise was welcomed.

‘My muscles are atrophying due to lack of use!’ he complained one afternoon in the apartment.

‘Let’s see, then.’ Chris shot back.

Trip rolled the right sleeve of his tee shirt up to the shoulder and bent his arm to raise his bicep. It looked fine to Chris and he said so.

‘No, look, feel, it’s going all untoned.’ He squeezed his upper arm and gestured for Chris to do the same. Chris placed his fingers tentatively on the warm skin and pressed. The muscles felt taut and perfectly toned to him.

‘I don’t know what you’re on about. You have more muscles in your arm than I have in most of my body right now.’ Chris tried to cover up the sudden thrill he’d got from touching Trip for the first time in a month.

‘Yeah well, my stomach’s going saggy and I feel like shit about it.’

‘Can I feel that?’ Chris was half joking.

They’d managed to keep all their conversations pretty light since Trip came home. Chris didn’t want to put any pressure on and Trip was reverting to his usual avoidance act.

‘If you want to.’

Trip looked almost shyly up at Chris and the atmosphere changed. They faced each other and Chris held his breath. He reached a hand towards Trip’s stomach and Trip took hold of his wrist, guiding it. Again, he felt warm, firm tightness beneath his palm. Very gently he slid that hand round to the side of Trip’s waist and placed his other hand on the other side. Chris felt his breathing start again, fast and deep, he tried hard not to let it show as he held still, astounded by how a simple touch could make him respond.

‘Yep, again, feels fine to me...’ he tried in vain to diffuse the moment with humour but Trip’s eyes had half-closed as he was also overwhelmed by the sheer sensation.

‘That feels so good.’ Trip breathed, his voice low, ‘Just your hands on me.’

Chris felt a shiver over his skin that raised goose bumps.

‘I don’t want to hurt you...’ he began. ‘...but I wanna touch you so badly’

He swallowed.

Trip let out a shaky breath. ‘Touch me. Please.’

Chris allowed his hands to smooth their way right around Trip’s slim waist to the small of his back. Then upwards, over the most exquisite contours to the ribcage. He used as little pressure as he could whilst still maintaining contact and when he reached the broadest part of the back he pulled Trip into him. Trip lifted both arms, cast and all and took Chris’ face in his hands. He closed his eyes as Chris leaned down to him and kissed him. Both of them let out a soft moan of relief and release and they deepened the kiss, gasping and crying out into each others’ open mouths.

Chris was intensely aware that he was holding Trip more firmly than might be comfortable for him and he broke away.

‘God, you are so beautiful. You feel so good. You make me feel so good...’ Chris began breathlessly.

‘You too. I don’t care how much it hurts. I want you to hold me again. Kiss me again. Please.’

The sheer, raw need in Trip’s voice was beguiling. Chris felt butterflies in his chest and desire stirring in the pit of his stomach.

Once again he placed his palms around the sides of Trip’s waist and pressed their bodies together. Trip kept his hands on Chris’ shoulders and tilted his head as their lips met and their tongues entwined in a hot, deep, liquid kiss that seemed to last an eternity.

Trip suddenly broke away with an exclamation of pain.

‘Sorry, I’m so sorry, that was hurting...’ he gasped, lowering his arms from Chris’ shoulders.

‘Oh, God, I’m sorry! I was afraid of hurting you!’ Chris felt terrible.

‘No, no, it’s me, the way you make me feel, the breathing, I couldn’t control it, it really hurts when I breathe deeply.’ Trip looked directly into Chris’ eyes ‘But that felt so good...so good. Chris, I can’t tell you, I’m just so sorry...’

‘Stop. You have nothing to apologise for, Trip. It’s not your fault and it’s not mine either. We just need to be careful of you. Come sit down.’

They moved over to the sofa and Trip cautiously lowered himself down. Chris waited till he was seated and then curled in next to him, one leg tucked under him, facing Trip. He placed a hand on Trip’s thigh.

‘OK, I’m gonna talk at you for a bit if that’s OK?’ he began

Trip nodded and remained silent.

‘Every time I see you, every bit of time we spend together, every new thing I learn about you makes me want to get close to you. I imagine touching you while we’re cooking, holding your hand while we sit here, kissing you when you open the door, when I leave... pretty much all the time I’m here, in fact. But I don’t. I don’t want to hurt you. I want you to be the one to lead on this. I’m scared of hurting you on so many levels, Trip. Not just your ribs. I’m so aware of what you’ve been through, the assault, the...’ Chris squeezed his eyes closed. He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

‘The rapes. You can say it. It’s OK.’ Trip’s voice was soft but steady. Controlled.

‘The rapes. Yeah. Knowing someone else touched you... hurt you... did all those things to you, just... it makes me really afraid. You need to let me know what’s OK. I need you to guide me. I don’t know what to do, Trip, I’m so scared of doing something wrong, of hurting you of fucking up, or...’ Chris broke off, flushed and confused.

Trip remained silent, his eyes cast down.

‘Help me out here, Trip. Am I making any kind of sense?’

‘Perfect, perfect sense.’ Trip’s voice was barely audible. ‘Just... thank you for saying that. I wasn’t sure what to say. I thought maybe you didn’t want to... I was too scared to ask...’

Chris let out a breath of relieved laughter.

‘So we’re pretty much in the same place, huh? Neither of us really knows what the fuck is going on? OK, I’m gonna be more honest right now than I ever have been with anyone before. It may be a really bad idea but I trust you to be honest with me too. Is that cool?’

Trip nodded again, his eyes wide.

‘Trey, I think you are amazing, I feel for you in a way I’ve never felt for anyone before. I want you. I want to touch you, to kiss you and...and so much more... I want to lose control with you... I –I... I’m not gonna do any of that until you ask. You mean too much to me to risk hurting you, overstepping the mark, doing something to upset you. There’s so much I’m not sure of here so I’m handing total control over to you.’

Chris felt suddenly foolish. It was rather a melodramatic speech but it had come from the heart and with the best possible motivation. He hoped Trip would see that.

Trip was still quiet. Chris looked at him, wondering what kind of an idiot he’d just made of himself. Trip’s eyes glistened... were those tears? No, oh no, Chris had meant to make him feel stronger, more in control, not this...

‘Hey, don’t... I didn’t mean to...’ Chris was floundering now.

‘I’m not crying, Chris. I’m OK. I’ve just been imagining someone saying something like that to me for so long that it was a bit emotional when it happened. And for it to be you! I mean, God!’ He flailed his hands helplessly in front of him and then very deliberately placed them on his thighs. Then in a confident, measured voice he continued, sounding only a little like he was reciting carefully rehearsed lines:

‘Thank you for saying that, Chris, for being so thoughtful. I can’t tell you how much it means to me. You’ve given me something to be in control of when I’ve lost control of so much in my life right now. I want to do it right with you, this... whatever it is... I will tell you what I want, what I feel. I promise to be honest with you. But you must promise to be honest with me on one thing in particular. If you find it’s... I’m not what you want... please, do me the courtesy of letting me know, before we get too... involved.’

Chris understood exactly what he meant and nodded.

‘I promise.’

‘Good. Now come here and kiss the fuck out of me.’

That was something Chris was more than happy to oblige with.

***


	25. Chapter 25

Part Twenty-Five

They were still entangled on the sofa an hour later when Bev dropped by to see if Trip needed anything from the grocery store.

At her knock, Chris raised himself from his position leaning over Trip, his weight on his left arm, the other gently laid over Trip’s stomach as they lay full length on the couch.

‘Shit. Who’s that?’ Chris looked alarmed.

‘Don’t worry, it’s probably just Bev. She’s the only one I let have a key to the street door. Help me up, I’ll go let her in.’ Chris gave him a hand off the sofa and Trip went to open the door.

Bev looked him up and down as she entered the apartment, taking in his rumpled appearance.

‘Sorry sweetie, were you sleeping?’ She tiptoed to peck him on the cheek.

‘Er... no, I...’ Trip turned as Chris appeared in the entry to the living room.

‘Hi Bev!’ he greeted her cheerily.

‘Hi, Chris.’ She grinned, raising an eyebrow and whispering ‘Oh, I see!’ in an aside to Trip.

‘Want some tea?’ Chris asked, and set about putting the kettle on.

‘I just wondered if you needed anything.’ Bev was saying. She cast a glance at Chris’ back as he busied himself in the kitchen. ‘Maybe I should get double quantities.’

‘Bev...’ Trip nudged her with his cast ‘...quit!’

‘Just sayin’. So you been taking care of our boy here, Chris?’

‘Yeah, just lending a hand with cooking and stuff.’ Chris turned and placed two cups of tea on the counter, turning back with a third a moment later.

‘Good. He has a tendency to overdo it.’ Bev cast a motherly look at Trip who raised his eyes to heaven.

Bev grabbed her tea and perched on one of the barstools. Chris took Trip’s over to him as he settled himself on the sofa again.

They drank their tea as Bev filled them in about Marco’s and her new project. They had been booked for a science fiction series which looked like it probably wouldn’t involve much more than a single season but promised fun challenges by way of hair and make-up.

‘...so I have to find about six more make-up artists to get all the prosthetics made and fitted for each shoot.’ Bev was saying.

‘For one ep, Marco has to find pretty much a whole army of short stunt actors to be aliens who seem to have a thing about falling off cliffs...’

They all laughed at the ridiculousness of the plot line. Bev placed her empty cup on the side table and stood up.

‘Now Chris, you wanna come give me a hand with the groceries?’ Chris didn’t think she was actually expecting a reply so he stood also, taking the cups into the kitchen on his way.

‘We’ll take the apartment key, save you getting up, OK?’ Bev scooped it up from the counter in what looked like a familiar move and Chris wondered how often she’d filled in in his absence. He felt faintly neglectful that he hadn’t visited more often.

‘Anything you need in particular?’ Bev asked Trip, who was feeling a little unnecessary.

‘Um. What are we doing for dinner tonight?’ He asked Chris, delighting in the astonished look which flashed across Bev’s face.

‘How ‘bout I surprise you?’ Chris grinned back, grabbing his sunglasses as Bev hustled him out of the door.

The moment they were safely on the landing below, Bev practically wrenched Chris’ arm out of its socket as she clutched it and demanded:

‘So, what’s going on with you two, then? I didn’t know you’d been a-visiting!’

‘Trip didn’t tell you?’

‘No! Not a word.’

Chris’ brows knitted momentarily.

‘Well, we seem to be getting on OK. I’ve been visiting, we’ve been out for a couple walks round the block, dinner once or twice...’

Bev suddenly stopped and stood in front of Chris, blocking his way.

‘Chris, I’m not prying and it’s none of my business but Trip’s like our son. We’ve looked out for him since he arrived here and I’m kinda protective of him and... I just gotta hear from you that... that you’re not gonna hurt him.’

Chris was rather startled by the fierceness of Bev’s expression at that moment. He wasn’t sure what he should say. If Trip hadn’t even told her that he’d been coming round, maybe what he thought was happening between them actually wasn’t... His mind flashed back to the feel of Trip’s mouth on his own, the taste of him, his tongue languidly tracing Chris’ lips, his breath hot and harsh in between kisses. As his stomach curled up and he pulled himself back into the moment he stopped doubting and looked directly at Bev.

‘I’m not going to hurt him, Bev. He does enough of that to himself. I’m letting him take the lead. Don’t worry, I’ll look after him, I promise.’

Hearing himself, Chris had a vague feeling he’d just quoted a line from a movie. He’d never said anything like that to anyone before and he felt suddenly self-conscious. It seemed especially bizarre given that he was standing on an echoing landing being faced down by a diminutive woman with fire in her eyes.

Bev held his gaze for a moment longer and then moved aside. They continued their descent.

‘I’m sorry, Chris. That may have been out of line but... I had to ask.’

‘I understand, I do. If it’s any reassurance, I’d do the same. I’m not sure where we’re heading but I think we’re both OK with it.’

Bev broke the tension with a dirty chuckle.

‘From the look of him when he opened the door, he seemed pretty OK with it.’

Chris felt himself blushing, but laughed along.

‘Now that really is none of your business.’ He smiled.

***


	26. Chapter 26

Part Twenty-Six

Trip sat on the sofa, finishing his lukewarm tea and feeling rather shellshocked. The afternoon had taken a somewhat different turn than he had anticipated. The hour on the sofa with Chris had been a delightful surprise but he had fully expected Chris to do the chivalrous thing and excuse himself for one reason or another so as to avoid putting too much pressure on Trip. Or Trip would have found a reason to ask Chris to leave so that he wouldn’t have to think about the possibilities of things going any further right now. Then he’d do what he invariably did after Chris had left, retiring to bed with his fantasies, his vivid imagination and his own right hand.

Despite the events of that awful night, Trip found he didn’t feel that much different about touching himself down below. Once the bruising and tearing begun to heal and the pain lessened, he was once again able to ignore the bits he usually ignored and to manipulate the bits that brought pleasure. The therapist had warned him that he might experience flashbacks or pain or any of a number of things but it thankfully hadn’t seemed to happen for him.

And the way Chris left him feeling, once he was alone, he’d given himself plenty of opportunities to find out.

But Bev’s unexpected arrival whilst he was still in thrall to Chris’ lips had thrown him. He had been feeling strangely proud of himself, like he wanted to show off in front of Bev, to crow ‘Look what I’ve done!’ So he’d made the comment about dinner and was now committed to waiting until much later to satisfy himself.

He was going to find that really difficult.

It was bad enough the few times Chris had come over to simply go for a walk or cook dinner together. They hadn’t touched, hadn’t talked about or done anything especially provocative yet Trip found himself desperately needing the release that his fingers could bring.

This afternoon had raised his desire to a whole new level. For the first time, he was starting to believe that he might, just might be able to get close to someone, that his fervent fantasy had a chance of becoming reality. Trip knew what he wanted. He knew what turned him on. He knew what he wanted to tell Chris to do, the honesty he’d promised. The only slight flaw in the plan was that in all his fantasies he was traditionally male-bodied. Instead of a cunt, he had a cock; instead of breasts he had a well-muscled male chest. His inability to reconcile this image with the actuality was something that had come up often in therapy. One advantage of being single was that Trip could continue with his rich fantasy, perfectly well-aware that in so doing, he was making it more difficult for himself to ever connect with someone else.

He was really going to have to do something about that.

Pretty soon, he imagined, he half-hoped, Chris was going to start expecting him to tell him what he wanted, what was the right thing to say, to do, how he needed to be touched, to be pleasured. How was he going to best guide the guy if his entire basis for his own satisfaction was a body which he did not possess? He was suddenly engulfed in a wave of fear. This was surely what would drive Chris away. Either his non-male body or his unreal self-image or his uncertainty or his lack of experience or...or...

Trip’s head spun. His heart was racing and black spots swam before his eyes. There was suddenly a roaring in his ears and he felt as if his chest would explode. A bizarrely calm, rational voice inside his head suggested that he was, in fact, having a heart attack and that all the concerns of a moment before were now utterly irrelevant. Except that the anticipated collapse didn’t happen and the pain in his chest grew as he felt his whole body tensing up. His mouth went dry and he gulped air into his aching throat.

He didn’t hear the key in the lock or the door opening. He was vaguely aware of Bev and Chris coming in, noticing him gasping on the sofa and kneeling down to talk to him. Chris’ calm but concerned voice cut into his blind panic:

‘Trip, it’s OK, I’m here. Just take a breath, babe. Breathe for me.’

It was that ‘babe’ that did it. Trip’s vision cleared and he obeyed the instruction, taking a shaky but deep breath and letting it out noisily. Though he was trembling, he felt better and looked at Chris in confusion as he continued to concentrate on breathing steadily.

‘What just happened?’ Trip put a hand to his throat, still tight and sore.

‘Looked like a classic panic attack to me. What brought that on?’ All Trip was feeling was the warm pressure of Chris’ hands on his thighs as he steadied his crouched position.

‘I-I don’t know. I thought I was having a heart attack.’ Trip shook his head.

‘Yeah, it’ll do that to ya. You feeling a bit better?’

‘Yes, a bit. How did you know?’

‘Oh, trust me, I know.’ Chris nodded grimly and left it at that.

‘Here, have a drink, Trip’ He had all but forgotten that Bev was there. He gratefully took the glass of water she was holding out for him and began to drink.

‘Thanks, Bev. Sorry. I don’t know what that was all about.’

‘You had your bloods checked lately?’ Bev asked

‘Yes, last week. All fine.’ Trip replied.

‘Pressure OK?’ she persisted.

‘Yes! It was all fine!’ Trip seemed annoyed.

‘Wait, you have hypertension or something?’ Chris sounded concerned. Maybe his amateur diagnosis was way off.

‘No, I have to have everything monitored cause of the hormones.’ Trip sighed. He really didn’t want to go into this right now.

‘Oh, I see.’ Chris let it drop.

‘Bev, I’m fine, really.’ Trip seemed to be communicating with his eyes. Bev got it immediately.

‘You want me to stick around or shall I...?’ Bev looked at Chris.

‘No, you get off. I’ll look after him.’ Chris straightened up and walked Bev to the door.

‘I’ll keep an eye on him, don’t worry.’ He said before Bev said anything. She squeezed his shoulder without comment and set off along the landing. At the top of the stairs she looked back and called

‘I know I’m a mother hen. Just ignore me.’

Chris simply shook his head and blew her a kiss before closing the door and returning to the living room.

He turned a barstool round to face the sofa, sat on it and challenged Trip:

‘So, now the truth. What’s up? What’s bugging you? Talk to me, You said earlier you’d be open with me, right? Trust me, Trip. Take that leap of faith.’

Chris didn’t want to push too hard but at the same time he was reluctant to give up the ground they’d gained. They had reached a point where it seemed they could move things on a little. And Chris wanted things to move on. He badly wanted things to move on...


	27. Chapter 27

Part Twenty-Seven

Trip looked at his hands in his lap. He couldn’t remember ever having felt quite this exposed before. Getting personal in therapy was one thing. You knew it was a professional arrangement and the other person didn’t really care what you said. Trip had developed a bit of a performance which he would put on, never quite getting to the really uncomfortable stuff. It helped him to maintain control of the situation. He was the archetypal self-made man; the last thing he needed was to expose any cracks which might jeopardise his construct. Even if the point of therapy was supposed to be to close those cracks rather than simply paint over them.

‘Hey’ Chris’ soft voice interrupted his thoughts ‘What’re you thinking about?’

It was now or never. If he didn’t allow himself to crack at this point, when he was at his weakest, emotionally and physically, he’d knew he’d simply end up rebuilding the same shaky pretence of strength and control as he’d had before.

And he was so, so tired of that.

Maybe letting Chris in would make him vulnerable for a while, maybe he would feel foolish and stupid admitting his flaws, his fears, his uncertainties.

But he realised now that Chris was the first person that he had ever wanted to trust completely. Whatever happened in the future didn’t matter. Right now, he wanted to tell Chris everything.

Trip looked up, feeling oddly sure of himself.

‘I’m going to tell you everything...everything but I can’t do it here, not looking at you. It just feels too much. Come lie down with me.’

Chris followed him to the bedroom where Trip lay down on his side, shifting awkwardly until he was comfortable, facing the edge of the bed. Chris followed suit, not touching, not moving, not saying anything, simply looking at the back of Trip’s head as he began to talk.

‘I told you about Rich, about how that fucked me up, but that was only part of the story. There’s so much stuff I’ve never really sorted out, never told anyone about how it feels to be in my... how it feels to be... me. I’m sorry if it freaks you out or whatever but, I want to tell you. It’s probably gonna be the most stupid thing I’ve ever done but hey...’

He paused, as if awaiting Chris’ affirmation or argument but Chris remained silent.

‘It’s been so weird, my whole life. Awful and confusing and just perfectly normal somehow. I knew there was something wrong when I was very young. I couldn’t make my parents, my teachers understand how backwards they’d got it. I guess I figured out pretty early on how they could think I was a girl. Everything looked right. It matched the pictures in the books, but that was about it, really. I just knew, I knew I was a boy. There had been some terrible, cosmic mistake. Really early on I sort of developed this alter ego who was a proper boy, a real boy. Jeez, I sound like Pinocchio... I totally lived as this fantasy person in my head. Outside I wasn’t anything really. Not anyone. I functioned, I did what people wanted me to do. I studied, I ate, talked, slept, I guess I figured out a way of being the person they all thought I was but it was kind of like living in a dream. The reality was the person I was in my head. The real me existed in the solitude, at night, when I was pretending to read, at the gym. I guess when I got kicked out it was my chance to make that person the same one that other people saw.’

Trip paused, gathering his thoughts.

‘Bev and Marco were amazing. They didn’t even question it. I was a guy and that was that. Marco said he knew right from the get go, that I was trans, but he never said a word. That was incredible to me, that it just wasn’t an issue for them. I told Bev pretty early on and she was so cool. She just shrugged and told me she was there for me if I needed anything. We kinda discovered stuff together. I tell you, there’s nothing that woman doesn’t know now about being transgendered, transitioning. Both ways. There’s a lot of stuff for male to female people out there...’

Trip seemed to notice that he was maybe straying from the subject a little and he tailed off.

‘You still awake?’

‘Of course’ Chris murmured. He wanted to reach out and stroke Trip’s back as he talked but decided Trip had to do this cold, in his own way. Adding his input would only confuse things.

‘So, yeah, I tried to put across the person that was me on the inside, but outside. If that makes any sense. But while I can pass as a guy and all that, there’s just a problem with what’s underneath... well, I guess it’s my problem and it’s such a fucking huge one to me that I don’t let anyone else close enough now to find out if it’s a problem for them. And the longer I leave it, the worse it gets and the more I can believe in my own image but at the same time know that no-one else will. Thing is, I don’t have the kind of dysphoria that a lot of other guys have, that self hatred, the loathing of the body they’ve been born with... I just kind of...don’t see it any more. In my mind I’m complete. Fuck, this sounds so freaky... I’ve never said this to anyone, not anyone, Chris. Do you understand that? Do you know what any of this means?’

Trip’s voice was sounding more and more agitated and Chris was finding it increasingly hard not to reach out to hold him or to comment. He bit his lip, hard, his heart pounding and an emotional lump beginning to form in the back of his throat. Trip ploughed bravely on, he’d gone too far now, the damage was surely done.

‘I mean, how could I possibly let anyone get close to me as a man when it’s all so wrong?

‘But I didn’t want to change anything. I say that I’ve chosen not to have surgery but truthfully, I’m scared. And I’ve kind of gotten used to things as they are. I feel sort of naked without my binder... Things... y’know... lower down, they work OK, they make me feel good, so long as no-one else is looking for bits I don’t have. I don’t want to lose that. I don’t wanna mess with that just so I can get some pieceofshit dick that doesn’t look anything like a dick that doesn’t work or fool anyone and that I can’t even feel...!’

Trip’s shoulders began to heave as he stifled the threatening sobs. Chris felt coiled and tense as he listened and watched.

‘And I just want someone to love me like this but to make me feel like the man I really am... and I don’t think it can ever happen and I’ve never said any of this to anyone and I just feel so... I feel so...’

He broke off as the crying overwhelmed him. He grasped his face in his right hand and curled his legs up to his chest until he was completely foetal. The humiliation of laying himself so open was just too much to bear.

Finally, Chris allowed himself to move. He sat up and shifted across the bed to Trip’s shuddering body. His eyebrows knitted together in desperation as he looked down at the crumpled body beneath him. Placing one hand on Trip’s arm, he leaned down and brushed the hair off his face with the other, then he wiped the coursing tears and simply held him, rocking slightly and saying nothing whilst the storm slowly ebbed.


	28. Chapter 28

Part Twenty-Eight

Eventually, Trip fell silent again, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. He remained tightly curled, his face hidden in his hands, the plaster cast jutting at an awkward angle.

Chris lay along Trip’s back, his knees tucked snug against the back of Trip’s legs, his hand on his waist and face pressed to Trip’s shoulder blade. He’d been unconsciously kissing the soft, thin fabric that covered the skin as he struggled to know the right thing to say. He was suddenly aware that the muscles beneath his lips had tensed as Trip seemed to pull himself even tighter into a ball.

‘Fuck. Fuck. Fuck...’ Trip began to repeat the word over and over again. His voice became more and more angry, stronger and stronger as it seemed his teeth and jaw clenched together.

‘What? Talk to me.’ Chris was unsure what this sudden change from tears to anger meant.

‘Trip?’

The body beneath him uncurled very slightly as Trip’s tight and angry voice sounded from between gritted teeth.

‘I have never cried so fucking much as I have since meeting you. I have never felt so unsure of myself, so like everything has just been ripped apart. So pathetic and vulnerable and scared. I have never hated myself as much as I do right now, never, never wanted so much to just be someone else, something else. Never wished so hard that I hadn’t been attacked, that I hadn’t agreed to go out with you that night, that I hadn’t taken you out to lunch that time... It’s all ruined now. I feel like I’m completely broken. My whole life’s been this stupid fantasy. I’m never gonna be the man I want to be, who you need me to be. I’ll never look the way I want to underneath, I’ll never have what you need. I’ll never be loved, the only sex I’ll ever have had is with those four assholes who raped me and I don’t even remember that happening...’

‘STOP!’

Chris surprised even himself with the vehemence of his outburst.

‘Trip, you have to stop that. Just stop going down that track right now.’

Trip turned his head and then rolled onto his back until he could look Chris in the face. Chris looked pale and angry and utterly, heart-wrenchingly beautiful.

‘OK, this stops here, Trip. Truths from me now. Please listen. I want you, I adore you. You are the most amazing man I’ve ever met. You make me feel something I’ve never experienced before. Nothing’s ruined, you’re not broken, you are exactly what I need because you make me feel like I never have before, my heart flips over when I see you, when I think about you. I wanna fuck you, I want you to fuck me, I wanna hold you, touch you, be with you when you need to cry. That person that’s the you inside your head IS you! But so is the person outside and I know you’ve felt your whole life that the two are in conflict but I can see the whole, and it’s wonderful and strong, and powerful and beautiful and it’s the man, the man that I’m... that I’m falling in love with...’

Chris raised his hand to his mouth as if unsure where the words had come from. His eyes locked onto Trip’s, still startled and staring up at him.

Chris lowered his hand.

‘There. Now I’ve given something away.’

There was a long moment of silence as the two of them just looked at each other. Trip lying on his back gazing up at Chris. The tension was palpable.

Chris looked away first. Turning towards the darkening window, he spoke in a low voice, almost to himself.

‘I know you have a lot to deal with right now, things to come to terms with, maybe stuff you need to process from long ago and I know that’s gonna take a lot of time and a lot of your energy but don’t... don’t try to second guess what I want and what I need....’

Chris felt Trip’s hand touch him in the small of his back, tentative, uncertain...

‘OK. I’m sorry.’

‘...and stop apologising. ‘

OK, sor...’ Trip broke off, realising what he was saying. He stifled a snigger.

Chris swung round to face him again.

Again they just looked. It was as if the words had just run out.

Trip felt like he had talked more than ever before in his life. He felt like he had said more to Chris in one afternoon than he had ever said to anyone. He literally had no more to say. The reflexive apology was more due to an instinct to fill the space in the conversation.

Chris was feeling much the same. His inadvertent admission of love had surprised him. He hadn’t wanted to add that to the mix just yet, fearing that it would burden Trip further. But he had his needs here, too. He knew he had every honourable intention towards Trip, that he’d give him as much time as he needed, that he wouldn’t hurt him. He’d promised Bev, for Chrissakes! But he had been starting to feel like Trip was deliberately misinterpreting everything he’d been saying. Like he disbelieved Chris’ repeated assertions that he wanted to be here, he wanted to be let in, he wanted... he just wanted him.

Chris ended the static silence by leaning down and kissing Trip firmly on the lips before springing up off the bed, pulling the blind down over the window and walking round the end of the bed. In the doorway, he looked back at the still-recumbent figure.

‘I’m going to fix dinner for us. Freshen up, straighten the bed because then I’d really like to spend tonight with you. Just holding you, nothing else, just holding you.’

Everything inside Trip seemed to leap at that moment, as if cresting the top of a rollercoaster. The thrill of excitement, terror and an unexpected shot of pure, unadulterated lust jolted through him.

Chris had vanished into the kitchen before Trip had collected himself enough to reply.

***


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh come on. 15 of you have looked at this. If you've got this far, leave me a comment!

Part Twenty-Nine

 

Later that evening, as Chris washed the dirty dishes and Trip dried them and put them away, both were suddenly struck by the delightful domesticity of the scene. 

‘This is nice. It’s just so ordinary’ Trip said, working out how to pick up a wet pan with his cast arm and wipe it with the other.

‘You’re only saying that cause you got out of washing up!’ Chris grinned and flicked suds at him.

Trip wiped his face and smiled back. There was something adorable about the sight of a man with his arms in a sink of warm water. He put the pan down on the counter and moved to stand behind Chris, wrapping his arms around his waist. Resting his head against Chris’ shoulder, he breathed

‘I’ve always wanted to do this.’

Chris kept his hands in the water,

‘What, take cuddle-advantage of me whilst I’m chained to the kitchen sink?’

‘Yeah, something like that.’ Trip’s voice was muffled and he closed his eyes, breathing in the smell of Chris’ shirt: laundry and Chanel Allure and his own unique scent, warm and comforting. 

‘You don’t mind, do you?’ Trip loosened his arms and pulled back a little, self-conscious.

Chris grabbed for Trip’s hands with his own dripping ones and pulled them back round him again.

‘No, I don’t mind. It’s wonderful’

‘You smell good.’ Trip murmured. 

‘Thank you. ‘ Chris shook his hands free from the water, turned round to face Trip and wrapped his own, rather damp, arms around Trip’s body, tilting his head down to kiss him.

Trip responded by leaning his whole body into Chris’, pushing him back against the edge of the sink until they were pressed together. He caught his breath as the kiss deepened and he felt Chris’ tongue slide between his lips. 

‘I can feel your heartbeat!’ Chris suddenly whispered in wonder against Trip’s lips. He slid his hand between them and rested it on Trip’s solar plexus, pressing gently. Trip instinctively pulled back but Chris kept him close.

‘It’s okay, I’m not going any higher’ Chris assured him.

Trip relaxed again and realised that his heartbeat was probably all the more noticeable now. He was suddenly aware that he’d all but forgotten he hadn’t been wearing his binder; that if Chris’ hand had moved a little further up his chest... Trip made an effort to calm his breathing and racing heart. It was alright, Chris knew the deal, he didn’t have to be scared of him finding anything out. But old habits and defences were hard to break down.

Chris watched Trip’s face as the anxiety flashed across it. 

Very slowly, he raised his other hand to Trip’s body and then moved both of them over the lower ribcage and upwards, the pressure so gentle that he barely felt the touch of the fabric beneath his fingertips, the warm, soft flesh under his palms and the tiny, hard nipples as his thumbs grazed over them.

Trip let out a hiss as Chris’ hands moved over him. Chris looked at his face and saw that the eyes were closed and the lips parted. He slid his hands round to Trip’s back again and pulled him in for another long, warm kiss, preventing Trip from saying anything or protesting or pulling away.

Trip moaned softly and pressed his body close again as he responded utterly to the kiss.

Once Chris had felt Trip’s racing heartbeat slow and the body in his arms feel less tense, he released his hold and disengaged his lips.

‘Shall we finish up here and go to bed?’

‘Yes. Sure.’ Trip pulled quickly back and reached for the dishtowel. He looked away, embarrassed.

‘Hey,’ Chris caught his arm. ‘It’s OK’

Trip looked back at him.

‘Yeah. It is. It really is. I’m just nervous, Chris.’ He breathed in as he picked up a plate ‘I don’t do nervous very well, apparently.’

Chris plunged his hands back into the cooling washing up water and began fishing for silverware. He addressed the forks he had caught.

‘I feel the same.’

***

Everything had been washed and put away, the counters wiped, the long silver-grey and black curtains in the living room were closed and there seemed to be nothing domestic left to do. Trip opened a built-in closet in the hallway and rummaged for a clean towel. Handing it to Chris, he opened the door next to the closet.

‘The shower’s pretty self-explanatory, help yourself to whatever you need. I’ll come in after you’re done. Uh, you need a tee shirt to wear...?’ Trip looked flustered. Chris shook his head and fixed a hooded look upon him.

‘No. Thank you. I’m fine.’

Trip caught the implication, took a deep breath and raised an eyebrow. ‘OK.’

Chris had already gushed over Trip’s art deco bathroom on a previous visit but he welcomed the opportunity to stand beneath a dinner plate-sized shower head in the large glass and chrome cubical and admire it some more. Trip had evidently decided to stick with the classic black and white theme but introduce all modern conveniences. Chris was pretty certain there had been no eco-flush cisterns and motion-sensor taps in the thirties. He was also pretty certain they would have had a greater acreage of mirror back then. One tiny shaving mirror on the windowsill above the basin was all he could see. The black and white tiled walls were otherwise unadorned. As the water cascaded over him he figured out why Trip chose to only have the bare minimum of reflections of himself in his home. What he would see in the mirror wouldn’t match what he felt or what he wanted to see. Easier to just avoid the issue altogether. 

Still, they guy had impeccable taste, both in design and... Chris turned to grab the white Armani shower gel bottle... in grooming products. As he lathered up, the familiar smell gave him a strange thrill. It was Trip’s smell. He’d never consciously noticed it before but now as it swirled around him he realised he’d been aware of it all along.

He rinsed and dried off, wrapping the towel around his waist before grabbing his heap of clothes and opening the door. He made his way back into the bedroom where Trip was just getting up off the bed, dressed in a white terry bathrobe.

‘Hey’ said Chris as he stood in the doorway ‘Fantastic shower!’

Trip stood up and looked at him.

‘Hey, fantastic upper body.’

‘Thanks’ Chris replied, with a laugh. ‘You got a toothbrush I can use?’

‘Oh, yeah, sorry. There’s a new one in the cabinet in the corner. On the wall. Toothpaste’s in there too.’

Chris dumped his clothes on a chair in the bedroom before returning to the bathroom.He left the door open as he found the toothbrush and brushed his teeth.

Trip watched him from the doorway to the bedroom, leaning against the door frame, his hands deep in the pockets of the bathrobe.

‘This is my first sleepover here, you know’ he began ‘Should we get snacks for a midnight feast? Or flashlights or ghost stories or something?’  
Chris wiped his mouth on the towel.

‘Or we could tell dirty stories, look at porn and smoke dope?’

Trip grinned ‘Yeah, I like your idea better. You done in there?’

‘Yup. All yours.’

***


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, you've been very patient. Here it is. NSFW

Part Thirty

They exchanged places and Trip went into the bathroom. As the shower started up again, Chris straightened his clothes on the chair where he’d dumped them and hung the damp towel over the end of the bed to dry. Then he pulled the covers back on the bed and climbed in on the side furthest from the door. Trip’s watch and phone were on the nightstand on the other side so he figured he mostly slept there. 

The sheets felt smooth and cool and crisp against his shower-damp skin. Pure cotton, high thread count, he was guessing. Another passion they shared. He smiled to himself. Art deco and fine linen, there was no mistaking either of them for straight anytime soon.

He lay back against the pillows, propping himself up on the stepped headboard and glanced at the bathroom door. 

And then glanced again. 

Trip had left it slightly ajar. After all, how many guys who live alone bother to close the door when they’re showering? Chris tried very hard to look anywhere but at the gap in the doorway through which he could clearly see a narrow sliver of the shower cubical. The sliver which had the dinner plate-sized shower head at the top of it...

He really tried to look away but Trip had his back to the door, facing into the spray, using his unencumbered arm to shampoo his hair whilst his cast arm must have been held out of the water. Chris couldn’t see that far. 

What he could see was the back of a perfectly muscled torso divided by a deep, shadowed spinal groove. As Trip moved his right arm, the shoulder and back muscles slid around beneath the skin, as he stretched up, everything followed, altering the definition and shading of the whole right side of his body. Chris was captivated by the sight. As Trip lowered his arm, Chris’ eyes went further down. The lower back muscles seemed to arrow towards the smoothest, neatest ass Chris had ever had the pleasure to gaze upon. Again, he found himself looking for the traces of femininity and again he was confounded. Even the hips looked narrow in comparison with the torso.

Chris saw the figure in the shower reach for the tap and turn off the water so he swiftly rolled himself to face the other way, acutely aware of the hard-on which the last five minutes’ peep show had triggered. Shit. This was gonna look all kinds of wrong. He closed his eyes and thought of filming, of trees, the ocean waves crashing on the shore with a regular, rhythmic pounding...no, ditch that one.

‘You still awake?’ Trip shyly hovered in the doorway, his robe back on, his hair in slick little spikes against his scalp.

Chris turned over.

‘I’m awake. You have a good shower?’

‘Yeh. It’s a pain to have to keep this outta the water.’ He raised his left arm.

‘You put a bag on it or something?’ Chris asked.

‘Yes. Feels a bit stupid.’

‘Come on, get in.’ Chris pulled back the cover on Trip’s side of the bed and smoothed the bottom sheet, patting it a little. 

Trip turned his back and sat down on the edge of the bed. He removed the robe, standing to gather it up and lay it at the end of the bed. Chris caught a glimpse of a black Armani waistband before Trip shuffled back-first into the bed and pulled the covers over himself. 

‘That was very cleverly done.’ Chris observed wryly.

Trip turned his head to face him.

‘You wanna make me feel any more uncomfortable? Cause I’m already shaking here and it’s my fucking bed!’

‘Hey, I’m sorry. C’mere.’ He reached for Trip and lay his arm over the taut stomach, as he had done earlier. Trip was wearing a grey tee shirt that smelled freshly laundered. Chris snuggled close to his side, taking care not to put any pressure on Trip’s still painful ribcage or to let his touch stray to any sensitive areas. The stomach was safe, it seemed. He’d stick with that. For now.

Trip’s left arm, in its cast, lay between them but Chris figured it was probably a welcome barrier in Trip’s eyes. He placed a kiss on Trip’s left shoulder and settled his chin there, looking at Trip’s face in close-up.

‘You wanna turn out the light? Get some sleep?’ Chris asked softly.

‘OK.’ Trip replied and reached out his arm to switch off the lamp on the nightstand. Chris felt the stomach muscles tense as Trip lifted up. Everything was momentarily dark until their eyes grew accustomed to the subtle glow of the streetlamps below, filtering through the blind.

They lay there for a while, listening to each others’ breathing, getting used to having someone else beside them in the dark.

Trip broke the quiet.

‘Chris, can I... can I touch you? I mean, I know we were just gonna hold each other but I wanna... if you don’t mind.’

Chris moved his arm from Trip’s stomach, found Trip’s right hand and raised it to his lips. Kissing it, he replied,

‘I’d really like that.’

Trip raised himself with only slight difficulty onto his left side and ran his hand slowly from Chris’ left to right shoulder, dipping his fingers into the tender depression at the base of Chris’ throat on the way. Then he traced Chris’ chest with a flat palm and exploratory fingertips. As Trip’s fingers trailed down to his stomach, Chris took a sharp breath, that felt good!

‘Hey, stop holding your tummy in! That’s cheating.’ Trip sounded like he was smiling.

‘I’m not! You just tickled, that’s all.’ Chris protested weakly.

‘That’s not tickling. I haven’t even started yet.’ Trip replied enigmatically.

‘Don’t stop, Trip.’ Chris exhaled.

Trip continued to smooth his hand across Chris’ stomach and around the sides of his waist. Pleasingly firm obliques caused him to catch his breath slightly and then he ran over the jut of Chris’ hipbone, so thinly covered with skin, so hard yet so delicate, somehow. Trip wrapped his hand around it, the ball of his thumb fitting so neatly into the curve. As he did so, Chris reached across with his left hand and grasped Trip’s hip also, causing him to lean into Chris’ side. 

Trip cried out with the sudden intensity of the sensation, before pushing himself away from Chris’ body.

‘Oh no you don’t.’ Chris used his hand on Trip’s hip to pull him closer again. ‘Come back here, stay close.’

Trip froze for a moment, acutely aware that the movement had brought his underwear-clad crotch into direct contact with Chris’ naked right hip.

‘You packing?’ Chris asked as if it were the most ordinary question in the world.

The pulse raced in Trip’s dry throat as he gulped out an astonished ‘Yes?’

‘Feels good. Now please don’t stop touching me.’

Trip struggled to swallow his amazement and he complied, moving his hand from the prominent hip bone to the concave lower belly. 

Tentatively he stroked the trail of hairs that led his hand downwards, thickening as he followed, until he could twine his fingers into their coarse thatch as his knuckles bumped against the topside of Chris’ cock, hard and smooth, insisting upon his attention.

Trip slid his hand out from beneath and gently grasped Chris’ erection. Chris’ guttural moan suggested he was on the right track. He tightened his grasp, loving the feel of iron-hardness robed in velvet softness. He slid his hand up and down the shaft, experimentally feeling the length and testing the pressure that elicited the best response. Chris seemed to not be too bothered if the noises he was making were anything to go by. He’d set up a breathy moaning, punctuated with the occasional ‘Oh God!’

Trip reached the top of an upstroke and ran this thumb over the tip of Chris’ cock, squeezing pre-come out of the slit and slicking it all around the head before stroking back down again and circling his fingers over Chris’ balls.

‘Oh God, yeah... uhhh... that feels so good!’ Trip looked up at his face in the dim light. Chris had his head thrown back into the pillows, his eyes tight shut and his mouth open in a perfect ‘o’. Each time he uttered a sound, his brow furrowed and his head pressed deeper into the pillows. He was totally lost in the pleasure Trip was giving him.

Trip repeated the move, using his thumb and fingers over the head and balls, Chris cried out and jerked up before placing his own hand over Trip’s and increasing the pressure and pace.

‘Harder’ he gasped, beginning to pant.

Trip was thoroughly caught up in the sheer primalness of the act and found himself moaning along, encouraging Chris. 

‘C’mon, I want you to come, I wanna feel you come in my hand.’

Chris suddenly kicked the covers back, momentarily startling Trip. But he quickly grasped the advantage of the move. He looked down to where his hand was frantically working Chris’ cock. The head glistened as he moved it, still slick with the clear fluid. Trip longed to be able to just lean down and lick it away but it was too late to rearrange his now-aching upper body. He concentrated on keeping his grip tight as he kept up the pace.

Chris’ cries became more and more intense and higher and higher as he neared his climax. Suddenly, Trip saw and felt Chris’ whole body go rigid before he uttered a long, low ‘AHHHHH’, his hips bucked up and he came in hot spurts over Trip’s hand and his lower belly. 

Trip kept his hand firm but still around Chris’ cock until he’d stopped twitching and crying out and had all but collapsed back onto the bed, his eyes still closed and his mouth still open.

Trip simply looked at him, spent and beautiful, lying here, in his own bed. He very gently disengaged his hand from Chris’ still impressively hard cock and trailed two fingers through the splashes of come on his belly. It smelled clean and fresh, like swimming pools, and he loved the slippery feel of it between his fingers. Placing his right hand flat against Chris’ now-still belly, he released the tension in his left side and lay down close, kissing Chris’ bare shoulder. It didn’t matter to him that he’d done all the giving, that he hadn’t come. It felt for all the world like he had, he was sated and sleepy and perfectly content.

‘That OK?’ he asked, somewhat unnecessarily.

‘Oh God. That was so OK, you would not believe.’ Chris finally opened his eyes and looked across at Trip.

‘Why do I get the feeling you’ve done that before?’

‘Yeah, I had a little practice with someone else. It was kinda one-sided.’ 

Trip was glad to be able to half-hide behind Chris’ shoulder. It wasn’t a relationship he was particularly proud of. But it had given him certain skills...

Chris looked back at the ceiling.

‘That was really quite incredible, Trip. I mean really. Best Ever territory, we’re looking at here.’

Trip snuffled with laughter.

‘I enjoyed it too. You sound so incredibly sexy. Ever considered doing porn movies?’

Chris swatted him gently on the arm before sitting up slightly.

‘Hey, can I use that towel?’

‘What? Oh, yeah, good idea.’ 

Trip lifted his now sticky hand from Chris’ body and Chris slid to the end of the bed to retrieve the towel and clean them both up.

When they were nestled up again beside each other, the rumpled covers over them once more, Chris turned to Trip’s profile, outlined in the gloom:

‘Thank you.’

‘It’s OK. Thank you’

‘No, really. That was... that was my first time with someone else.’

Trip turned to the shadowed face beside him.

‘Really?’

‘Yeh, really.’

There was a long pause. Finally, Trip replied

‘Well, definitely thank you, then. I feel... really quite honored, actually.’

He felt for Chris’ hand beneath the covers and held it tight. 

They slept like babies until after ten the next morning.


	31. Chapter 31

Part Thirty-One

The late summer sunshine streaming round the sides of his bedroom blind woke Trip the following morning. In a spilt-second he had remembered the events of the previous night and a delicious butterfly feeling filled his stomach. Turning to his left, almost expecting it all to have been a dream, he saw Chris, still sleeping, beside him. He was lying on his back, having pushed the covers away, exposing his chest and part of his stomach.

Trip carefully propped himself up on his pillows so he could watch Chris sleeping. He looked so different somehow. His face in repose looked much younger than it did when he was awake and animated. So much more vulnerable. It was unusual to see an actor who wasn’t constantly using their facial expressions, even when just playing themselves. As Trip’s eyes looked along the line of Chris’ throat, a tiny pinprick of resentment appeared as he skimmed over the slight lump of the Adam’s apple. When Trip gazed over the smooth plains of Chris’ chest he was torn between adoration and envy. Consciously he switched off the envy; after all, his own chest was more defined and probably broader than Chris’ and in a couple of weeks he’d be able to wear his compression shirts again which would help him to feel much better about his top half. He looked at Chris’ pecs, not even as firm as his own, but slightly differently distributed, smaller nipples... which were pink and erect, Trip couldn’t help but notice. Unconsciously he licked his lips, a sudden desire to rub his thumbs over them catching him by surprise. 

Chris grumbled and stretched as he began to wake up. He half-opened his eyes and looked straight across at Trip.

‘You watching me sleep?’ he slurred, eyes blinking drowsily.

‘Yes. I think I’ve earned it.’

‘Can’t argue with that.’ Chris hefted his body so he lay on his side, facing Trip. He reached his hand out and cupped Trip’s cheek.

‘Can I just reiterate how fantastic last night was?’

Trip felt his cheeks color. It was one thing to hear this in the darkness but quite another in the light of day.

‘Again, thank you.’ He replied. Chris was fixing him with such an intense look that he was beginning to feel rather uncomfortable.

He changed the subject.

‘I was thinking that I might venture down to the gym today, see what I can do with one arm and a basic inability to breathe.’

‘Is that a good idea? I mean, shouldn’t you wait until your cast is off at least?’

‘Probably. But that’s not for another couple of weeks and I’m going crazy. I could do some cycling, some weights on this side. Nothing too strenuous.’

Chris shrugged. ‘I’m sure you know what you’re doing. I never did as I was told when I got injured. My ankle’s still a bit unreliable even now.’

‘What happened?’

‘Oh, I ripped some tissue in a fall. I was meant to stay off it but I carried right on dancing and everything. Not much choice, really. I guess I should do some exercise too.’

Trip almost suggested that they work out together and then thought better of the idea. He really wasn’t ready for that level of intimacy yet. Working out was his solitary activity, his thinking space. It was the workshop where he created and forged his own body, his self. He’d chosen this apartment based on its proximity to the small, unassuming gym he’d been going to for almost the last decade. The guys there knew him, he’d done some freelance personal training work there during the lean times and, most importantly, there was never any issue now with him using the men’s locker room. He just had to keep an eye on things and ensure he didn’t go when it was busy.

Trip’s thoughts were interrupted as Chris sat up and asked

‘D’you mind if I pull up the blind?’

‘No, go ahead. I guess we should get up at some point, huh?’

‘Yeah. Hey, let’s go someplace for breakfast, I always wanted to do that.’

‘What, you’ve never been out for breakfast...?’ Trip was confused.

‘No, I mean yes, I’ve been out for breakfast, but with someone... y’know, the next morning...’ Chris tailed off, feeling a bit ridiculous all of a sudden. He looked away and raised his eyes heavenward, cursing his childish enthusiasm.

‘Me neither, I think it’s a great idea. There’s a little place a couple of blocks from here where I go from time to time. Fresh croissants and coffee to die for, how’s that?’

‘Perfect, let’s go!’ Chris leaped out of bed and grabbed his clothes, carrying them into the living room to get dressed. Trip was momentarily surprised until he realised the move had been a tactful way to allow him to get dressed unobserved. As he gingerly pulled off the shirt he’d slept in and smoothed a fresh one down his body he had a thought:

‘Hey Chris? You wanna clean shirt to wear?’

Chris peered round the living room door, jeans on and bare-chested.

‘Yes please, that’d be great.’ 

Trip couldn’t help but grin at him, a smug warmth suffusing his belly. 

‘Or you could just go to breakfast like that...’ he suggested.

Chris smiled and ducked his head.

‘Best go for that clean shirt, eh?’

‘I got black, grey and white. What d’you want?’

‘Uh, white, I guess. I’ll go for the All American Boy look.’

‘And you do it so well...’ Trip returned to his room to fetch a white tee shirt for Chris.

Once both of them were dressed and with mussed-up morning hair, they tumbled out of the apartment door, starving and desperate for coffee. Trip locked up and together they descended the flights of stairs. As Chris opened the street door of the building, the sun momentarily dazzled him but he noticed that the light had taken on the more golden glow which heralded the start of autumn.

‘Can’t believe the summer’s almost over, can you?’ he asked, looking back up at Trip from the foot of the steps. Trip closed the door, checking that it was securely latched. As they began to walk up the street, both reached into the pockets of their jackets and took out sunglasses, putting them on with perfect synchronisation. 

‘Hey, you wanna be Mr Pink or Mr Orange?’ Trip asked with a grin.

‘Huh?’ Chris didn’t get it.

‘You never seen Reservoir Dogs? Striding down the street with sunglasses and sharp suits? Tarantino?’

‘No, I’ve never seen it. I’ve heard of it but never seen it.’ 

‘Oh well, there’s our next DVD night, right there. Tarantino classics.’ Trip felt momentarily old. 

They rounded the corner of the next block up and shortly came to a crossroads with several small shops, a Laundromat, and a couple of real estate agents.

‘It’s just over there.’ Trip pointed across the road at a cafe with tables on the sidewalk. It looked for all the world like something you’d find in Europe. Paris, maybe. Chris instantly loved it, even before they had crossed the road.

‘We gonna sit outside?’ He asked Trip excitedly.

Maybe just inside, they have the whole front open, it’s just a bit more shaded.’ Trip replied.

‘Cool.’ They crossed over and Chris saw that the whole front window of the cafe had been folded back, effectively opening the interior right up to the outside. 

Trip led them to a table by the far left wall that was free. It was close enough to the open window to allow a light breeze in but was pleasantly shaded. They sat down and idly perused the breakfast menu.

‘I’m really tempted by bacon and eggs right now.’ Chris admitted.

‘Go ahead, if you want. I’m gonna stick with the croissants and coffee otherwise I’ll never get to the gym, let alone actually do a workout.’

‘Nah, coffee and croissants sounds great.’

They placed their order with the young man in black jeans and a crisp white shirt who came to their table. He seemed to know Trip and smiled a shy hello just before turning to Chris and instantly going rigid as he recognised his regular customer’s companion. Artfully covering his awe, he took Chris’ order before raising both eyebrows at Trip as he turned from them.

‘What was that?’ Chris asked, noticing the look that had passed between them.

‘Oh, nothing, just Jay being impressed.’ Trip grinned.

‘He a friend of yours?’ Chris went on.

‘I guess. I know him from here and, y’know, around.’ Trip suddenly felt a bit defensive. He wasn’t ready to tell the backstory of everyone he knew, how he knew them, the fact that Jay was one of the guys who’d gone the complete surgical sex-reassignment route and now lived very happily with a transgender woman called Helen in a third-floor apartment not far from Trip’s.

Jay brought them their coffees and a few minutes later a basket of freshly baked croissants accompanied by butter and an assortment of sweet spreads.

‘I could almost imagine I was in Europe.’ Chris mumbled, through a flaky mouthful.

‘Mmm, I’ve never been.’ Trip replied whilst carefully breaking small pieces off his croissant and anointing each with butter, before popping them in his mouth.

‘No? We’ll have to go someday.’ Chris spoke without even thinking and seemed to alarm even himself when he thought about what he’d just said. But then he found himself going on,

‘We absolutely should take a vacation, Trip. We both deserve it.’

Now Trip almost choked.

‘Seriously? A vacation? Together?’ He goggled, thinking the next line of his speech would be; ‘after me shoving you away for a month and then one fairly decent hand job?’

Smiling, he softened his reaction by asking:

‘So tell me about Europe. What’s your favourite place?’

Chris was only too happy to cover what was obviously a faux pas with his many and enthusiastic memories of his time travelling abroad. Just as he’d got to describing the hot chocolate he’d been served in a tiny cafe in the backstreets of Florence, his phone buzzed on the table beside his plate. He picked it up and opened the message from his publicist, expecting some booking for pre-release photos for the film. The message was short:

Call me. Urgent. D.

‘Uh, I’m sorry Trip, I have to make a call, d’you mind if I do it here?’

Trip gestured with his right hand ‘Go ahead, everything OK?’

‘I don’t know.’ Chris said as he hit the speed dial and waited while it rang.

The phone connected on the third ring.

‘Chris, hi, thanks for getting back so quickly. Something’s come up. Are you out somewhere at the moment?’

‘Er, yes, I’m having breakfast.’

‘With someone?’

‘Yes, why?’

‘Some photos have just been posted to SlebSpy.com. They just came up. Of you and someone else. Leaving an apartment together.’

‘Oh shit. That was like twenty-five minutes ago. They’re quick off the mark.’

‘OK, so we’re gonna get onto this and try to sort it out but anything I need to know?’

Chris looked thoughtfully at Trip for a moment and then smiled. 

‘Let me talk to him and I’ll call you right back.’

He ended the call and took a deep breath.

‘We’ve been spotted.’ 

***


	32. Chapter 32

Part Thirty-Two

Trip’s eyes widened in alarm.

‘What d’you mean, we’ve been spotted?’ he asked, his heart beginning to race in the back of his throat.

‘That was my PR and publicity manager on the phone. Someone’s just posted some photos of us online. They’re pretty quick...’

‘Oh fuck.’ Trip was visibly panicking.

‘Hey, it’s OK, Dani can deal with it. What’s the matter?’ Chris looked at Trip with concern, his reaction seemed a little over the top.

‘Oh, just think about it, Chris. If they can shoot and post those photos within half an hour, it’ll take them like half a day to find out who I am and ...’ he paused ‘...what I am.’

‘This is why I wanted to talk to you before I told Dani what to do. Trip, for myself, I don’t care what they find out. It’s not gonna change anything about how I feel about you or anything about me. But if it’s a problem for you, I’ll get her to try and have all the photos taken down.’

Trip looked at Chris, a mixture of terror and awe on his face. He’d been about to give him the speech about the damage that would be caused to Chris’ career by the truth getting out but Chris had just pre-empted all that with a single, simple statement. Now he began to think of himself and what this would do to him.

The greater part of him, his ‘old self’ was petrified. What if people who accepted him as a man and who had no idea of his backstory suddenly turned on him? What if they accused him of lying to them all this time? He would immediately become unable to just be a normal guy again. The world would know his secret. Ten years of hard work would come crashing down. Trip blinked dazedly at Chris, processing the fact that so much had already come crashing down and yet here he was with Chris, having breakfast after...well, quite.

He slowly smiled as he realised that hidden under his habitual thought processes was actually a sense of relief, a lightness at the thought of everyone in the world just suddenly knowing who he was and what he was and, most importantly, who he was with.

The unfamiliar sensation made his head spin. 

He was excited and breathless and it felt incredible!

Trip felt as if something had just unlocked inside him, a door or the lid of a box. It seemed to slowly swing open and hang there, light and air and freedom pouring forth from within. He reached across the table and grasped Chris’ hand, holding it as his smile widened and an unexpected gasp of laughter escaped his lips.

Chris watched him, looking mystified, trying to figure out what was going through Trip’s mind as, in rapid succession, his face registered terror, confusion and now almost idiotic joy.

‘What’s going on?’ Chris leaned forward.

Trip continued to grin, hardly able to articulate. Eventually he managed to relax the muscles in his face enough to utter

‘Fuck ‘em! Just fuck ‘em! I don’t care!’

Chris’ face broke into the goofiest grin imaginable and the pair of them simply sat there beaming at each other and repeating ‘Fuck ‘em! Fuck ‘em!’ whilst clinging onto each other’s hands and shaking with laughter.

It was a good few minutes before either of them was able to calm down enough to speak but Chris remembered he’d said he would call Dani back and advise her how she should proceed with regard to the photos. He grabbed his phone and looked back up at Trip.

‘So, I tell her to just leave the pictures?’ he asked.

‘Yes, why not?’ Trip couldn’t believe he was saying this and that it felt so right.

‘OK. Fantastic. Cool.’ Chris felt the laughter begin to bubble up again.

‘Oh, wait, let’s have a look at them first!’ Trip wondered why neither of them had thought to do that in the first place.

‘Yeah! Let’s do that!’ Chris swiftly keyed the web address into the browser on his phone and they waited with baited breath whilst it loaded.

‘I haven’t looked myself up for the longest time.’ Chris sounded like a child who’d just been handed a bag of candy. He held the phone between them and they both peered at the screen as the page resolved itself. 

‘Oh, here they are.’ Chris clicked the link and they waited another moment as a page of tiny images appeared.

There seemed to be about twenty, all shot in quick succession, like cells from an animation. Chris halfway out of the street door to the apartment block, heading down the steps, Trip locking the door as Chris looked back at him from the bottom of the steps, the moment he descended to join Chris, the two of them walking along the street, putting on their sunglasses on, striding in step, deep in conversation and a final shot of their backs as they moved further down the street.

‘Jeez, my hair needs a wash.’ Trip muttered as he looked, running his hand through it.

Chris burst out laughing again.

‘Perfect! That was the absolute perfect thing for you to say!’

‘What?’ Trip mugged.

‘Your first experience of being papped with a film star and you’re worried about how your hair looks! It’s just perfect!’

Trip looked at him, still holding the phone out and grinning and his whole body seeming to swell with joy and pride and freedom and...

‘I love you.’

It just seemed to fall from his mouth. He hadn’t thought about it, hadn’t even known he was going to say it, it was just suddenly there and it was just so right.

Chris lowered the phone to the table, all the strength suddenly gone from his body.

‘Really?’

Trip just nodded, biting his lip a little.

‘I love you too’ Chris whispered, his voice completely gone all of a sudden.

Across the cafe, Jay knew better than to choose this moment to refresh their coffee.

***


	33. Chapter 33

Part Thirty-Three

In something of a daze, the pair of them finished their breakfast, settled the check and returned to the front of Trip’s apartment building. Standing on the sidewalk, they both had a good look around at the place where the photographer had evidently parked to take the pictures.

Chris had called his publicist and she had agreed to contact the website and get the photographer’s details. The only thing Trip had requested was that his address wasn’t given to anyone else if such a thing were possible. He also hoped the photos showing his front door could be taken down to try and prevent anyone else hanging around the building on the offchance of a sighting. Chris had arranged a meeting with Dani for himself and Trip to put together an information package that she could artfully leak when the inevitable calls started.

‘It’s nice to finally have something juicy to tell them, Chris.’ She’d commented with a smile in her voice. ‘You have no idea of the rumors I’ve been fending off.’

Chris actually had a pretty clear idea of the rumors. They popped up every so often via his Twitter and Facebook feeds and friends had told him that there were whole areas of Tumblr and fan fiction sites devoted to peoples’ twisted imaginings.

The truth, when it finally emerged, wouldn’t disappoint.

‘So... um... I’m gonna go get my stuff and head to the gym...’ Trip was saying, feeling like he was being a bit of a buzzkill. If he was honest, he was beginning to feel a bit weirded out by the last twenty-four hours and he needed a bit of time to just process it all and let it settle. He’d done some things, said some things and felt some things that he never had before and he craved a little normality.

‘Sure, I’ll get going then. I’ll call you later, OK?’ Chris wasn’t sure what he should do as they parted so he settled for a friendly squeeze of Trip’s shoulder before turning and walking down the road to his car.

Trip watched him go and then mounted the steps, unlocking the door and closing it behind him, sagging against it, enjoying the cool, quiet dimness within.

Slowly he climbed the interminable staircases and re-entered his apartment. The bed was still rumpled, the towel still lay puddled on the floor where Chris had tossed it the night before. Moving through into the living room, Trip noticed Chris’ tee shirt laid over the back of the sofa. He picked it up, pressing it to his face and inhaling deeply. It smelled of Chris, his fragrance, his sweat. Trip decided not to wash it. At least, not for a while. He carried it back to the bedroom and folded it carefully, placing it beneath his pillow as he straightened the bed.

Shaking his head to try and dislodge the muzzy feeling of unreality which seemed to have settled there, Trip gathered his workout gear and began to get changed. He opted for a sweatshirt despite the sun outside. He didn’t want to run the risk of anyone noticing anything that the lack of a binder might reveal. Stopping suddenly, midway through pulling the sweatshirt down, he reflectively ran his hands over his chest. Then, holding the hem of the shirt up with his cast arm, he pressed firmly all over, from side to side, up, down, grabbing whatever he could, muscle, tissue, nipple. It wasn’t so out of shape but it was definitely not what he wanted. To look at, Trip’s breasts were small but to feel, there was a noticeable layer of fat over the firm muscle beneath. No amount of hormones or exercise or denial was ever going to change that. Quickly, he pulled the sweatshirt off again, followed by the tee shirt . He made his way into the bathroom and grabbed the little mirror from the windowsill, holding it far enough away from him that he could see the top half of his chest. He replaced the mirror, angled carefully and used his hands to stretch and pull at the flesh on his chest, flattening it and pressing it, urging it into more and more uncomfortable positions. Eventually he let his hands flop to his sides and appraised his reflection in the glass. From the front, from the left side, from the right side and again from the front. He tried to inhale fully to expand his chest and see how that changed things but the increasing ache in his ribcage made him let the breath out with a pained gasp. He idly wondered if working out was such a good idea after all. 

After a final and decisive look at his reflection, Trip strode out of the bathroom. Grabbing his phone from the top of the chest of drawers where he’d left it, he searched the list of saved contacts, scrolling urgently with his thumb. There! He pressed the dial button and stood in the hallway, listening to the buzzing tone on the other end. Finally it connected and a rich dark voice answered:

‘Good morning, Dr Lopez’s office. May I help you?’

‘Yeah, Hi...’ Trip scrambled for the right name ‘...is that Lou?’

‘Yes it is, who’s calling?’

‘It’s Trip Parkes, Lou. How are you?’

‘Oh hi, Trip, I’m good thanks. How are you?’

‘Really well actually. Really well. Um, I wondered if I could make an appointment with Rico sometime this week?’

‘Sure, Trip. Hold on while I check his schedule.’

There was a pause during which Trip noticed that his heart was fluttering with excitement.

‘How’s Thursday for you, Trip? You need anything in particular or just a chat?’

‘Just a chat at the moment, Lou.’ Trip was tempted to tell the receptionist exactly what he planned to talk to the doctor about, to spill the beans, to make his idea concrete by speaking it aloud. But he didn’t want to jinx things. And he wanted someone else to be the first to know once he’d got the go-ahead from Dr Lopez.

They fixed the appointment for Thursday morning, early, so that it didn’t clash with his and Chris’ meeting with Dani at eleven. 

‘OK, Trip, that’s all booked for you, see you on Thursday.’

‘Thanks Lou, see you then.’ He disconnected the call and stood in front of the picture windows in the living room, gazing out at the buildings opposite and the hazy hills beyond, little caring that he was half naked. Pretty soon that wouldn’t matter at all.

‘I’m gonna do this.’ He said aloud, teeth gritted in determination. ‘I’m gonna fucking do this.’

With that, he returned to his room with renewed energy, changed back into his workout clothes, stuffed a bag with towel, shower gel and a change of clothes and swept out of the apartment.

***

The gym was quiet, it had an air of hard work and dedication that Trip liked. It contrasted starkly with the brash, noisy corporate fitness centres he’d visited elsewhere. He hated the ranks of televisions and piped pop music, the dayglo Spandex-clad men and women pounding the treadmills and the cabinets full of branded merchandise. Did people actually buy towels, drink bottles, shirts and even fucking headphones with the name of their gym emblazoned across them?

Here, he could just get on with it. The floor was covered with sound-deadening grey industrial carpet, the air was filled with the hum of the air conditioning, the thump and whirr of the treadmill, the soft grunting of the guy bench-pressing what looked to be several times his own body weight. The etiquette demanded that you acknowledge others’ presence with a nod only. No conversations occurred between patrons. If you needed to talk to one of the trainers, you went over to the semi-circular desk near the entrance and you spoke softly. You used the machines, hefted the weights, stretched on the matted area beneath the window and then departed to the showers and away into your life. About which no-one else either needed or wanted to know. It was pretty much Trip’s idea of heaven.

Usually.

As he entered the main doors and showed his membership card to the guy on the front desk the double doors to the main gym swung open and Tom, one of the trainers came through. He looked in astonishment at Trip before greeting him and asking what the hell had happened.

Trip began to think this hadn’t been such a bright idea after all.

‘Uh, broken wrist, fractured ribs. Y’know, the usual’ Trip tried to make light of it, hoping Tom would assume it had been a work injury.

‘Shit...’ Tom whistled through his teeth, continuing ‘...and you’re going nuts at home so just had to get out to pump some iron, huh?’

‘Pretty much.’ Trip nodded.

‘Want a hand?’ Tom gestured towards the door.

‘Uh yeah, thanks. I don’t want to overdo it. I’ll just put my stuff away.’

‘Sure’

Trip ducked into the locker room and put his bag into an eye level locker, taking out the key bracelet and fixing it to his right wrist with difficulty.

He entered the main gym, as calm and quiet as ever, just two other guys working away, eyes glazed, in their own little worlds.

Tom stood next to a recumbent cycle, keying in a warm-up program to get Trip started. 

‘Try ten minutes on this to warm up and then we’ll get started on some weights.’ He said, before leaving Trip to it and starting to wipe down one of the machines with a spray bottle and some Kleenex.

It felt good to be moving again, even if it was like pedalling in a bathtub. Trip tried not to push himself too hard, his ribs still ached when he breathed. He closed his eyes and concentrated on letting his lower body take the strain, endeavouring to keep his shoulders and chest relaxed. At the end of the programme, the bike beeped and Trip allowed his pedalling to slow to a stop. He climbed out of the low-slung seat and looked around.

Tom had finished cleaning and was sitting on the end of an incline bench hefting weights, testing which felt better to him. He arose and motioned for Trip to sit down, handing him the weight. Trip felt slightly ashamed at how light it was, but Tom was right, he needed to start small again so he didn’t put too much strain on his injured body. As he raised and lowered the weight, Tom counted beside him, gently adjusting the point at the top and bottom of the movement to which Trip was aiming. Once he’d got it right, Tom stood closeby, watching and counting.

‘That hurting your ribs?’ Tom asked, noting Trip’s expression change.

‘A bit.’ He admitted.

‘Then you need to stop there. That’s enough. Your upper body hasn’t had much of a warm up and it’s moving in an unnatural way cause of the pain. You don’t wanna strain it.’

Trip nodded. This was going to be a long slog.

Tom was adjusting the grip on the cable-pull machine. ‘Try this.’ He said.

Trip found the pulls much easier and said so. He fell into an easy rhythm and found himself enjoying the motion and the strain he felt in his arm but not his chest. As he embarked on his third set, Tom, who was curling a dumbbell, conversationally remarked:

‘Nice pictures of you on the internet this morning.’

Trip almost let go of the grip, allowing the weights to crash back down with a metallic clang.

‘What? You??’ was all he could say with an incredulous shake of his head whilst Tom fixed him with a shit-eating grin.

***


	34. Chapter 34

Part Thirty-Four

 

Thursday dawned clear and bright and with just the slightest chill in the early morning air. Chris awoke surprisingly fresh and alert, despite having been up until two in the morning on his laptop. The idea of a vacation had lodged in his mind after his thoughtless suggestion in the cafe the other morning. He needed to get out of the city for a bit, needed to take his mind off the fact that apart from a couple of minor projects, he was ‘between jobs’ right now. He wasn’t concerned, just wanting to take advantage of the downtime. He wondered how feasible a real retreat to the mountains might be. Somewhere with no glamor, no room service and definitely no photographers. Somewhere he could ditch the film-star front and just be himself. The thought of camping even crossed his mind but he really wasn’t sure if he was prepared to rough it that much.

At just past midnight he’d discovered the website for a company that let out cabins and cottages in remote parts of the mountains a couple of hours’ drive from LA. By 1am he’d located the ideal place. It seemed to be right at the far end of a tiny, spread out village called, rather engagingly, ‘Faraway’. There couldn’t have been more than ten houses, spaced widely around what the description said was ‘a multi purpose convenience store, cafe and bar.’ By the indistinct photo, Chris guessed this was actually someone’s house which had been turned into a focal point for those retreating to the wilds who realised they actually did need human interaction after all. 

The cabin that had caught his eye was hardly a cabin. It was newly-built, quite obviously architect designed and partly clad in cedar wood. It was single storey and had none of the cutesy rustic ‘charm’ that seemed to characterise most of the properties advertised. Chris felt, after having browsed a few photos, that he simply wouldn’t be able to stay in a place that was entirely wood panelled inside and out. Even in the photos, everything looked like it had been lacquered with treacle and seemed contrived and oppressive and just overly rustic. This house on the other hand was light and airy and consisted of a single large central living area with a double bedroom at one end and a twin at the other. The more he looked, the more he became captivated by the mouth-watering description of the log burning stove and the underfloor heating, the full stretch of windows letting out onto a vista of trees and the shower which was actually a wet-room, no curtain, no cubical, just a whole tiled room in which to stand beneath the falling water. Looking out onto the woods via a floor to ceiling window. That would give any paparazzo the shot of their lives, Chris reflected until he noticed a clever external blind-system in the photo.

He’d completely made up his mind by a quarter to two in the morning and had dispatched an enquiry email, not holding out much hope of its availability as it was rather short notice. He browsed the rental rates just before logging off and was quite shocked by how expensive a getaway to the mountains seemed to be. Still, it was a house for up to six people including the pulldown bed in the living area so he shouldn’t really be surprised if he had to pay a premium to stay in the house by himself.

As he got ready for bed, he once again considered if Trip would like to accompany him on his little retreat. There were two rooms so if he was uncomfortable about sharing so early on in their... was it a relationship...? Chris didn’t like to speculate. 

He fell asleep with a delightful fantasy of the two of them tucked in front of a glowing fire with the forest darkness falling outside those huge windows...

***

The following morning he still felt the delicious anticipation of a vacation laced with the excitement of asking Trip if he wanted to come. He remembered that today was the day they were meeting with Dani to spill the beans. Somehow this seemed like an affirmation of whatever it was that Trip and he were getting into. They were going to decide how much information to let out and what to flatly deny. Neither of them particularly wanted to deny anything. It was easier to tell the truth. The media hounds would find it out anyway; better to feed them correct information

He tried to call Trip to arrange how they were getting to the meeting later that morning but his cellphone was off. Chris was momentarily concerned. He didn’t remember Trip telling him about being busy that morning and his phone was never usually turned off.

Chris sent an SMS message to call him back and went to switch on his laptop again. Checking his email, he was disappointed to see there had been no reply from the cabin rental company. But then, he’d messaged at like, two in the morning and it was still only just after nine. 

Chris felt at a complete loose end so went to make coffee. Just after nine thirty, as he was finishing his second cup, he heard his phone buzzing. He was relieved to see Trip’s name come up on the screen.

‘Hey, I wondered where you were!’ he greeted him.

‘Sorry, I was at another appointment. You wanna come pick me up? I’m kinda halfway to the city already.’ Trip sounded breathless, like he was walking somewhere.

‘OK, where are you?’

They fixed a meeting point and Chris went down to his car.

***

Trip shifted from foot to foot as he waited on the sidewalk for Chris to pick him up. He figured it would be easier for them both to travel into the city in Chris’ smaller car than to try and wait around for a citybound bus. He missed the independence of being able to drive his campervan, but with his arm in a cast, he couldn’t manage the stick shift, let alone the upper body twisting that just manoeuvring the non-power assisted steering wheel required.

It wasn’t too long before he heard a horn sound and the blue two-seater pulled over to the sidewalk. Trip opened the door and leaned in.

‘Hey, you looking for a good time?’ he quipped, before lowering himself into the seat with considerably less difficulty than the previous time he’d tried it.

‘Yes, since you ask. I am looking for a good time! What d’you charge?’ Chris still had the parking brake on, the engine idling, the signal ticking softly.

Trip turned, leaned over and kissed him.

‘That’ll be twenty bucks.’

Jeez, you’re expensive!’ Chris laughed as he put the car in drive.

‘But I’m worth it!’ Trip deadpanned, still looking across at him.

‘Mmmm, I’m getting that impression.’ Chris replied, checking the traffic as he pulled out.

‘So’ Chris went on ‘we need to get our story straight for Dani. What are we happy for the world to know? More to the point, what are we calling this anyway? Are we dating? Are we friends? Partners?’ He paused ‘Lovers?’

Trip’s stomach did the by-now familiar flip at the very sound of the word. It felt strangely contrived to be constructing the narrative of their time together in a car heading into the city. Chris seemed to be perfectly comfortable with it, as if he was writing a script for them both. Trip supposed that he’d gotten used to viewing his life from the public’s perspective. Trip suddenly had a moment of realisation that their experiences weren’t so very different: Chris knew the person he was to his fans and the public and played that role, keeping his real self sheltered and protected; Trip knew the person he presented to the outside world and how it, too, differed from his inner self. Only, his projection was truer to life...

Trip snapped from his reverie, 

‘I think dating for now. Can we say ‘boyfriends’ or is that a bit cheesy? I always wanted to be a boyfriend.’

‘Yeh, I like that.’ Chris reached out his hand and laid it on Trip’s thigh. ‘Will you be my boyfriend?’

‘Yes, I’d love to. Will you be my boyfriend?’

‘I’d be honoured.’

Though the moment made them both think of a Disney film, it somehow seemed to work and they caught each other looking with a smile.

‘So what d’you wanna say about you?’ Chris continued a moment later.

‘Uh, I’ve been thinking about that.’ Trip began, uncertainly. ‘What d’you think about not saying anything yet, kind of get us established, whatever, then as it comes out, make sure Dani has all the information so she can just say stuff as if it’s like no big deal and Oh, sorry, didn’t you know that? To take the wind outta their sails...’ 

He realised that he’d been babbling a bit and stopped, anxiously looking at Chris’ profile, concentrating on the road.

‘That sounds good. It kinda runs the risk that misinformation will get out before Dani has a chance to respond, though.’ Chris said, thoughtfully.

‘Look, Chris, I don’t really want to start this off as your trans boyfriend, I wanna just be your boyfriend. For a little while, at least. And, I guess, if I’m gonna become some kind of spokesperson, I’d rather put across that I’m just a guy first and foremost and that the trans bit is a minor detail. Because it is, it really is...’

‘But it’s not to everyone else. That’s what Dani’s gonna say.’ 

‘But it should be. That’s my point.’

Chris thought for a few moments, seeming to resolve something in his mind.

‘You’re right. You’re absolutely right. And I have no business interfering in how you want this to go. I just want you to be protected, is all. I’ve had a bit of time to get used to this. You’re kinda getting thrust out there.’

‘I’m not naive, Chris. I’ve been in this industry for longer than you. I know how it goes. I want to protect you. But you know what? I think we’re both gonna be OK.’

Chris nodded, turning briefly to glance at Trip.

‘Yes, we are.’

They drove in contemplative silence for a few minutes before Chris remembered what he’d been wanting to ask prior to his professional front taking over.

‘So, what were you up to this morning before I picked you up? Where’ve you been?’

‘I went to see my doctor.’

‘Everything OK?’ Chris glanced again at Trip.

‘Yes. I’ve asked him to refer me on, I’m gonna get my top surgery done.’

***


	35. Chapter 35

Part Thirty-Five

Chris hadn’t been sure how to respond to Trip’s announcement. He’d automatically given the standard supportive comments but once they arrived at the offices of the PR firm where Dani worked, he confronted Trip as they waited in the sub-basement for the elevator.

‘Trip, can I ask you something?’

‘Mmm? Yeah?’

‘Your decision to get the surgery done... it’s not like... for me, I mean, because of what’s going on with us, is it?’ He hoped fervently that his question hadn’t come across as too self-centered.

‘No. Well, this has kind of given me the incentive to take the next step. But no, this is completely for me. Really. I suddenly feel like I have nothing to lose and everything to gain.’ He paused for a moment ‘Or rather, the other way round, everything to lose!’

Trip reached out a hand to twine his fingers with Chris’.

‘You believe me, right? This isn’t about you... or us. This is me doing what I need to do. Finally. ‘

Chris nodded, squeezing Trip’s fingers with his own.

‘But I can benefit from the results, right? It can be for me some of the time, at least?’ A mischievous grin spread across his face.

Trip returned the look ‘I’m counting on it.’

***

Once settled in Dani’s frosted glass-enclosed office, Trip felt curiously relaxed and in control. It was rather a pleasant feeling to think that the tall, blonde woman in her power suit and heels that sat before them was hired solely to manage Chris’ and now his own, public image. She seemed to be very good at what she did. To the best of his knowledge, very little had ever seeped out about Chris’ personal life except what he wanted people to know, and even that had come in measured doses.

Following introductions in the reception area on the seventeenth floor, Dani had led them past several frosted glass offices to her own and settled them down in front of a monumental desk which bore a desktop computer, a laptop, a phone and an iPad in a pink case. As she sat down, Dani placed a BlackBerry and an iPhone on the desk beside the array of technology. She noticed Trip’s glance at the collection of hardware.

‘It’s my job to keep in touch with things.’ She smiled.

Trip nodded, a little ashamed at having been caught and idly wondered if she had a personal Facebook or if she went home and like, wrote letters to relax.

‘So, boys, what you got for me to feed to the ravening beasts, huh?’ She leaned back in her leather chair and steepled her fingers together like a lawyer.

‘Ohhh, good stuff, Dani, good stuff.’ Chris smirked.

Dani instantly lost her professional veneer, leaned forward on her elbows and eagerly eyed Trip.

‘What’s going on, Trip? You managed to bump Chris here from being the most popular non-story to the most talked about possible new partnership based on a set of twenty photos alone.’

Trip felt himself blushing. This wasn’t quite what he’d expected from a PR agent. Surely she was supposed to channel the gossip, not be a part of it?

‘Quit it, Dani. You got those photos of Trip’s place taken down, right?’

Dani sat back up. 

‘Yes, SlebSpy were actually very accommodating, once I promised them first dibs on the info you’re going to give me today. They’re begging for scraps, Chris, they’ll take anything, a name, a set-up photo. The ball’s in our court. After that though, it’s pretty much open season, they’re not gonna leave you alone, especially when the film comes out. What’s the timetable on that, by the way?’

Chris sighed.

‘Looks like mid-October now. They can’t leave it much later or it’ll be out of time for nominations.’

‘OK, so....’ Dani called up a calendar on her desktop computer ‘that’s a month and a half, then premiere, then early December noms, then awards in January...’ she deftly clicked and highlighted boxes on the grid, typing with perfectly manicured nails which matched her iPad case. 

Looking up, she went on, ‘We need to get something out right away but then it’s quite a long stretch till the premiere.’ Turning to Trip, she explained ‘If there’s a long gap between big media opportunities, it’s more likely that the paps will be lurking around, trying to get something, anything, to keep you on the public radar. Now, if we can measure out some stuff over the next month or so, it should keep them satisfied and off your backs till the film opens.’

She leaned back again.

‘So, once again, what are we gonna tell them?’

Chris took the lead, putting up his professional front once again.

‘OK, Trip and I are dating, you can call him my boyfriend. We met on set, he was my stunt double. It’s early days but we’re happy, blah blah, blah...’

He looked across at Trip who was watching him broadly sketch their situation as if it were a plotline.

‘We’re happy, right, Trip?’ he looked anxious for a split second.

‘Yeah, oh yeah.’ Trip responded. 

Dani was touch-typing on her laptop as she watched the pair of them.

‘So, the fun bit, Dan, this is strictly between us for the moment but it’s gonna surface sooner or later...’ Chris looked again at Trip, his expression suggesting that he pick up the story.

Trip hesitated. Shit. This was all kinds of awkward. 

‘Uhhh, I’m... er... I’m transgender... I guess that’s an interesting detail that the press are gonna get all excited about. But I don’t wanna let that out right away... I...’

‘You just wanna be his boyfriend? I can understand that, that’s cool.’ Dani chipped in, obviously sensing Trip’s discomfort.

She went on, ‘So we wait and see what transpires...’ 

Trip sniggered.

‘Sorry...’ he muttered

‘OK, we wait and see what comes out.’ Dani fixed him with a very deliberate look and they both laughed together. Trip felt his unease ebbing away.

‘It’s fine, Trip, we can handle this. Is there anything awkward or uncomfortable from your past that might be difficult if it comes up? If I can get a handle on the kind of stuff that the press like to dredge up, I can be a step ahead. Forewarned is forearmed, as they say.’

Trip thought for a minute. 

‘No, I don’t think so. Uh, there was the attack, is that gonna be a thing?’ He turned towards Chris.

‘Trip was attacked a few weeks ago, police are treating is as a hate crime, homophobic and transphobic.’ Chris felt uncomfortable revisiting his memories of that time.

‘Shit, that’s nasty. That how you hurt your arm?’ Dani asked.

‘Yeah, broken wrist, cracked ribs, coma for a few days, oh, and gang raped.’ Trip sounded so matter of fact that both Chris and Dani fell silent.

‘Look, there’s no point in hovering around the facts, not in a place like this, right, Dani?’ Trip continued, an edge of harshness to his voice. ‘You just need to know the truth cause, as we all know, it’s gonna get found out one way or another so here’s how it is. Chris is dating a transgendered guy, assigned female at birth, no reassignment surgery as yet, I was attacked and raped a month ago by a bunch of guys who first took issue with me being gay and then not having a dick and really none of any of it is anyone’s fucking business but people are gonna think it’s their business cause they’re gonna think that Chris is dating a girl.’

Trip stopped, his face red and his eyes blazing.

Both Chris and Dani were just gazing at him. Dani with solemn respect and Chris in complete and utter awe.

Dani broke the silence.

‘Yep, you’re right. If I know all this stuff up front then they don’t have anything to surprise us with. You’re OK with all this going public in due course? Maybe even talking about it?’

‘Yes, fine. Just don’t make a big deal out of it. I’m just a guy, just an ordinary guy...’

‘...Who happens to have snagged one of the most desirable pieces of showbiz ass to have come along in a while.’ Dani quipped with a grin.

It was Chris’ turn to blush.

‘Shut up, D!’ he whined.

‘OK, so boys, enough with the awkward. We need to get some pics for SlebScum. Something mundane. Shopping? Tim’s around somewhere, you OK for now?’

Trip looked puzzled ‘What?’

Chris filled him in. ‘Dani’s in-house photographer takes some candid shots of us to give to the websites. Ones that we’re in control of but that look like they’re papped. They’re happy, we’re OK with it, the fans think they’ve got inside info, everybody wins.’

‘Jeez, you’re all more devious than I thought. Yeah, that’s fine. Now?’

‘If you’re alright with that. No time like the present.’ Dani rose to her feet.

‘My hair looking good?’ Trip grinned at Chris as they left the office.

Chris reached for Trip’s hand and pulled it to his lips, stopping them both in their tracks.

‘You are so cool. You know that?’ Chris murmured against Trip’s knuckles.


	36. Chapter 36

Part Thirty-Six

 

On Dani’s instructions, they drove to a mall about a mile from her office. Tim the photographer, after having been introduced to Trip, followed in his own car. Trip felt rather apprehensive as he closed the car door and he and Chris walked the few yards to the sliding glass doors at the entrance. He had no idea if Tim was behind them or waiting or what was going on.

‘So how do we do this?’ Trip asked Chris as they stepped into the air-conditioned interior.

‘We’ll just walk from this end to the other and back again, look in some windows, smile at each other, try to act normal, like we’re just hanging out together. Tim’ll spot us. You won’t even notice him.’

‘OK.’ Trip did his best to act normal, as if he didn’t desperately want to look behind every pillar and box of ferns to see where Tim was concealing himself.

‘C’mon,’ Chris inclined his head ‘Let’s do some window shopping.’

They walked slowly past the shop fronts, pausing by two or three whilst Chris pointed out a pair of shoes here, a poster for a book there. Once they had reached the far end of the avenue, they turned around and did the same down the other side of the row.

‘You realise, don’t you, that I haven’t remembered a single thing we’ve looked at or anything you’ve said to me this whole time?’ Trip muttered as they looked at an arbitrary men’s clothing store.

‘That’s OK, I haven’t said anything of any consequence whatsoever. Just relax, it’s alright!’ Chris put his arm round Trip’s shoulders as they faced the shopfront. Trip looked towards him.

‘Are you doing this for the picture?’

‘Of course.’ Chris grinned.

‘Wanna kiss?’

Chris’ eyes widened. ‘Shall we? Oh yes, let’s do it!’

Trip leaned over and pecked Chris on the cheek, quickly and innocently, hoping that Tim had caught the moment. If they were going to play the paparazzi at their own game, they were going to have fun while they were at it.

Chris pouted. ‘That wasn’t a kiss. This is a kiss.’

He put his free hand to the side of Trip’s face and leaned in, placing a kiss firmly on Trip’s lips, holding it long enough to be certain that Tim had got a good few shots in from wherever he was hiding.

They disengaged from each other and, giggling like schoolchildren, hurried from the shopping mall and back to the car. 

Once safely inside, both let out shouts of laughter at their own audacity.

‘Holy crap! That’s gonna give everyone something to talk about!’ Chris breathed, excitedly.

‘I can’t believe we just did that!’ Trip felt close to euphoria as the adrenaline coursed through him.

‘Let’s go back and choose the shots.’ Chris said, starting the car and pulling away.

***

Back at the PR firm’s office, Chris and Trip were given coffee and Dani materialised shortly afterwards with a large box.

‘I shoulda got you boys lunch but I couldn’t resist these.’ She lifted the lid to reveal a tray of donuts glazed in rainbow colours.

‘Oh my God, Dani! Where did you find them?’ Chris’ voice got shrill as he matched Dani’s excitement.

They dived into the box and devoured several donuts before Tim arrived back. He passed their sticky feast with a look of lofty disdain as he disappeared into a cubical and plunked down in front of a computer. Chris, licking his fingers, signalled to Trip to follow him.

‘So what did you get?’ Chris asked Tim, who was uploading the photos from a memory card, his camera sitting on the desk nearby.

‘Just waiting to see. They’re gonna pee their pants when they see the face mash, Chris. You’re gonna break a million fan girls’ hearts.’ Tim spoke with his eyes fixed to the screen.

A few minutes later, a page filled with tiny images popped up and Tim deftly maximised them and began looking though.

Before Chris and Trip had much of a chance to look at the pictures, Tim began deleting and editing them. He knew time was of the essence and evidently didn’t have much patience with the fact that his subjects were poring over his shoulders. Once he had reduced the number of pictures to about half the original quantity, he left the photos on a scrolling slide show while he went to get some coffee for himself.

Trip and Chris leaned over the screen, eagerly examining the photos, alternately exclaiming and cringing. 

When Tim returned, together they selected about twenty or so photos from the shoot, including four of the kiss. Tim agreed to very subtly touch up one or two of them on Chris’ request. Trip asked him to email the best one of both of them just looking at each other. Then, once Tim had got them both to sign a release form saying they were happy for the company to use the photos, they were finished.

They dropped by Dani’s office on the way out to say goodbye and she beckoned them both in. Without a word, she turned the flat screen of her desktop computer towards them and pointed at it. It was an email inbox, refreshing every couple of seconds as whole screens full of new messages came in. Chris looked more closely.

‘Oh my god! Are they all about me?’ He gasped.

‘See why I charge you so much?’ Dani laughed. ‘Oh and you’ve been trending on Twitter now for three days...’

She turned towards Trip.

‘...and they’ve found you, Trip. About twenty minutes ago. You’re trending, too. Someone’s been doing their homework.’

‘What are they saying? Do they know anything?’ Trip momentarily questioned his choices that morning.

‘Not yet, you’re just a name right now. But don’t worry, we’ve got this.’ Dani smiled and once again, Trip felt in control, safe and protected, like he could take on the world.

‘C’mon Chris, let’s go get some lunch, I’m hungry.’

Chris turned to him. ‘Yeah, good idea. See you Dani... And thanks.’

‘No problem. Keep a low profile for a bit, wait for Tim’s photos to get picked up. We’ll do another set in a week or so, I’ll call you.’ She waved them out of her office and returned to her monumental emails.

As they waited for the elevator in the plush hallway outside the suite of offices, Trip turned to Chris.

‘So we have to do that all over again?’

‘Chris nodded ‘Yes, probably.’

‘I think I’d rather not know I’m being photographed.’

‘Really? Well, I meant to say to you. I’m... I’m thinking of going away for a bit, taking a little vacation time.’ He looked enquiringly at Trip.  
‘Oh, where to?’

‘I found this place in the mountains, miles away from anywhere, no-one would come looking. I just wanted to get some peace and quiet while I can.’

Trip nodded in understanding. ‘Yeah, you deserve it, great idea.’

The elevator arrived and the doors slid open. They stepped inside.

Chris looked up shyly.

‘I wondered if you’d like to come with me? There’re two bedrooms, it’s a lovely house, wooded views, modern, shower to die for, really nice.’

Trip grinned.

‘I’d love to, I’d really love to. When do we go?’

‘As soon as I get back and book it!’ 

Chris did a little happy dance as they walked from the elevator and back to the car.

***


	37. Chapter 37

Part Thirty-Seven

After lunch in a small downtown restaurant, Chris drove Trip out of the city. On the freeway he asked 

‘So, you wanna come to mine and take a look at this place in the mountains?’

‘Yeah, I’d like that. When were you thinking of taking off?’

‘Well, it’s all gonna depend on whether it’s available to start with. I was hoping for next week sometime.’

Trip was thoughtfully silent.

‘Trip? Something wrong? You can change your mind if you like, I understand.’

‘No, no, it’s not that. I really want to come with you. It’s just that I’m due to have this cast taken off on Tuesday next week and I don’t really wanna delay that. I’m so sick of it.’

Chris breathed a silent sigh of relief.

‘We can book it for after that then. That’s no problem. We’ll call it your convalescence!’

‘Stop! You make me sound like I have tuberculosis or something!’

They laughed together as the car barrelled along.

Trip gazed idly at the urban landscape as it rolled by, pondering how rapidly his life seemed to have changed, how easy it was to just be with Chris. After fighting his feelings and his habitual responses, it had suddenly become much less of a struggle to let himself get close. It mostly had to do with not thinking too hard about anything, trying to float above all that was going on and observe it as if watching a movie. He considered Dani’s parting intelligence that his identity had been discovered. He couldn’t see how it would adversely affect the important things in his life, his job, his relationship with Marco and Bev, his few, real friendships. 

Trip’s thoughts turned suddenly and unexpectedly to his birth parents. He hadn’t considered them for a long time. He wondered if they had ever tried to find him, to make amends. He wondered if they had somehow been informed when he had changed his birth certificate. He wondered if they would recognise his photo when the inevitable happened and it made it into the wider media. Trip found it immensely puzzling how they could have raised their only child for eighteen years and then simply forgotten about him. Sure, they had kicked him out but how could a parent just throw away all that effort? 

But then he himself had made no effort to contact his parents either.

Unsurprisingly.  
Without even realising it, Trip had let out a long held breath as he brought himself back to the moment and looked ahead at the tree-lined road they were travelling along.

‘You OK?’ Chris asked, laying a hand on his thigh and gently squeezing.

‘Yeah. I’m OK. Just started thinking about my parents. I wondered if I shoulda told Dani about them or anything.’

‘Are they likely to come chasing you if they find out where you are?’ 

Trip shook his head and then shrugged.

‘That was what I was wondering.’

‘Wanna talk about it?’ Chris’ hand stroked Trip’s thigh slowly, steadily. It felt reassuring, right.

‘Not really. It’s been a long time.’

‘You know that whatever happens, we’ll work it out.’ Chris glanced over at Trip as he stopped the car at an intersection.

‘I know. Thank you.’

Trip closed his hand over Chris’ and held it for a second as he looked at the profile beside him, his heart flipping over in his chest thinking of all that had suddenly become possible.

***

A few minutes later, Chris slowed the car as he looked further up the street.

‘We have a little company, you may want to put your shades back on.’

Trip did as suggested and was about to ask what Chris had meant when he saw a crowd of photographers colonising the sidewalk outside a modern-looking apartment building. He saw Chris reach over and press the button on a remote control device sitting just beneath the dashboard.

‘Hang on tight’ Chris warned as he swung the car abruptly off the road and down the steep ramp that led into the basement parking garage.

Trip was aware for a moment of shouts of ‘Chris! Chris!’ as the photographers swarmed towards the car, only to be thwarted as the gate rattled down behind them.

‘Phew, this is insane!’ Trip half gasped, half laughed.

‘Yeah, it can get a bit stupid.’ Chris agreed, shrugging it off like a seasoned pro.

‘How do you handle that kind of thing on a daily basis?’ Trip asked.

‘It doesn’t happen on a daily basis. It comes and goes. Sometimes I can just live my life almost like a normal human being.’ Chris’ voice was laced heavily with irony.

‘No, but seriously. How d’you deal with it? I mean, this is your home. Where can you escape to?’ 

‘They’re just doing their job. They’re catering to people who think they have a right to every part of the me they see on screen, in the media. It gets tiring sometimes but you just give them a little of what they want, try to be nice, let them know when they’ve overstepped the mark and get Dani’s lot to pull out the big guns when it all gets too much.’ 

Chris seemed remarkably offhand and philosophical about it as he locked the car and waited for Trip to follow him to the elevator.

‘But there are days when I don’t see daylight, when I just travel from one underground parking garage to another.’

Trip still seemed rattled. Chris stopped outside the elevator and reached up to touch Trip’s face.

‘Hey,’ he said softly ‘It’s OK.’

Trip swallowed and nodded. ‘Yeah, I know.’

Chris slid his hand to the back of Trip’s neck and pulled him close for a kiss.

‘I got you.’ He breathed.

The elevator arrived with a ping and a swish of opening doors and Trip stepped inside, feeling as if his whole body was imploding.

***


	38. Chapter 38

Part Thirty-Eight

 

Fifteen minutes after the elevator had delivered them to the spacious carpeted landing outside Chris’ apartment, they both sat eagerly poring over the screen of Chris’ laptop.

Trip had insisted on a tour of the apartment, which had been brief as it pretty much consisted of a huge open-plan space with a balcony-style sleeping area. He’d clocked a display of awards and nomination notices in the space beneath the stairs but Chris hadn’t said a word about them so he thought he’d leave that for another day. Then Chris had made tea for them both as Trip browsed a diverse and eclectic DVD collection.

Nursing his mug sitting on the sofa, Trip examined the pictures of the house Chris had found in the mountains.

‘God, it’s beautiful! Why the hell would someone want to rent that out? Why aren’t they living there?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe some money issue? I really don’t know. And you know what? I don’t care cause it means we get to enjoy it!’

Chris minimised the window and popped up his email to check whether the rental agency had got back to him. Trip looked beyond the screen to the huge television and DVD storage shelves surrounding it. It seemed rude to be looking at Chris’ emails. Even if the screen in question was on the lap right beside him on the sofa and even if Chris seemed quite oblivious to the fact that Trip could have read everything.

‘Great! They got back...’ Chris paused as he read ‘...property is vacant until the second week in October but fully booked then until Christmas. There! We can have it for a week, two weeks, even three!’ He jiggled, making the laptop lurch from his lap. Trip grabbed it before it fell.

‘That wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done that.’ Chris frowned. ‘Technology and I aren’t the best combination.’

‘You ever washed your phone?’ Trip asked him, raising a single eyebrow.

Chris’ eyes rolled heavenward as he wrinkled his nose and pressed his lips together.

‘Uh huh. I get it.’ Trip sighed, a smile playing on his lips.

‘But, in my defense, I dried it out and it worked just fine.’ Chris replied, his eyes twinkling.

‘So, you gonna book this place?’ Trip nodded towards the laptop.

‘Oh yes, I think so. How long can you spare?’

Trip turned to Chris, trying to think of an answer that wasn’t some variation on the theme of ‘I’d stay there with you forever.’

‘Well, I can’t go back to work for a bit, I have to get back in shape and they said my ribs will be vulnerable for a good while yet. Marco’s cool with it and my insurance is pretty generous. I pay enough for it, it fucking should be.’ He added ruefully.

‘So... ten days? Two weeks?’ Chris looked hopeful.

‘What if we, like, get sick of each other? What if...’ Trip began visualising catastrophe scenarios, all within a split second, the majority of which involved him desperate and horny, lying on a couch, Chris in the place of Richard, angry and betrayed, yelling...

Chris leaned forward, placing the laptop carefully on the large glass-topped table in front of them. He took Trip’s hands in his own.

‘Hey, there are two bedrooms, we’ll have space, we don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with, it’s just a vacation, Trip. I’m not necessarily whisking you away for a dirty weekend.’

Trip collected himself.

‘God, I’m sorry, Chris. I’m sorry. I....’ Chris cut him off mid-apology by pushing him back in the seat, swinging his leg over and planting himself firmly on Trip’s lap, kissing him hard on the lips as he went.

Trip went limp and then found it impossible not to respond, leaning into the kiss, pressing his body upwards towards Chris’, his arms encircling Chris’ back.

Chris raised both hands to Trip’s face, holding him as he deepened the kiss, his breath gasping into Trip’s mouth as he moved his lips, breaking the seal to utter a moan.

Trip had never felt or heard anything so hot as that moan, close against his lips, Chris’ breath in his mouth, Chris’ body taut in his arms, Chris’ pelvis grinding down against his own.

‘Wanna book a house or come to bed?’ Chris hardly broke contact to ask.

‘Book then bed’ Trip heard himself gasp out. At least he assumed it was himself. He couldn’t think of anything that sounded less like himself.

Or anything he wanted more right at this moment.

Chris very reluctantly relaxed the pressure of his kissing, pulling back from Trip, still straddling his lap.

‘I want you. I just want you to know that.’ Chris was looking intently into Trip’s eyes, his chest rising and falling with his rapid breathing. His cheeks were flushed and his pupils huge and dark. 

There was a wildness about his look that took Trip’s breath away, he felt his own lungs exploding and a pounding heartbeat in his chest and between his legs. This was utterly out of his control. 

And he kind of liked that.

Chris clambered off Trip’s lap with a sigh and grabbed the laptop almost angrily.

Deftly swiping the trackpad to navigate the screen, he typed and dispatched a swift email to confirm the booking for ten days from the following Wednesday, ensured it had sent and snapped the lid down on the machine with a decisive-sounding click.

‘Now, we are going upstairs because I want to make out with you on my huge bed. I wanna kiss you until you can’t bear it any longer and I wanna touch your body and make you feel incredible. And if you don’t feel incredible you can stop me and if I go too far you can stop me and you can stop me from doing anything that makes you uncomfortable but until you do, I’m just gonna go right ahead because you are driving me crazy!’

Chris had pulled Trip by the hand up the open stairs which led to the sleeping platform and had removed his jacket and shirt by the time Trip had reached the top step.

Chris gently pressed his naked torso against Trip, pushing his jacket off his shoulders and carefully down his arms till it landed softly on the carpet. He once again cupped Trip’s face as they kissed, quick and urgent, breaking off only momentarily to sit down on the bed and then resuming as they lay down, Trip on his back, Chris leaning over him, mussing Trip’s hair with his hands as he feverishly devoured his lips, moaning and uttering strangled little cries of need.

***


	39. Chapter 39

Part Thirty-Nine

Chris pulled back from kissing Trip and once again straddled his body, his hands molding Trip’s waist as he sat over him, looking down.

‘This OK?’ he asked as settled against Trip’s pelvis, keeping his weight on his knees.

‘Yeh,’ Trip breathed ‘You can sit down if you want to.’

‘Sure? I don’t wanna crush you.’

‘I can take it’ Trip smiled and placed his hands on the waistband of Chris’ jeans, pulling him downwards. His fingers grazed bare flesh as he grasped, silently cursing the immobility and weight of his left arm.

‘C’mere’ he rasped, sliding his hands up Chris’ chest, drawing him close again. Chris leant forwards and slipped his arms beneath Trip as their lips met again.

As he half concentrated on the liquid warmth that was Chris’ mouth and Chris’ tongue and Chris’ breath, Trip explored him with his fingertips; down his sides, testing the ladder of ribs just discernable beneath skin and flesh, the muscles of Chris’ back, firm and warm, shifting as his arms moved beneath Trip’s body. He allowed the fingers of his right hand to find Chris’ spine and track up, then down, one vertebra at a time, lingering at each rise and at each dip until he reached the hollow of Chris’ back. Placing his hand flat, he stroked gently, side to side, up and down and eventually slid his fingers under Chris’ waistband.

Chris let out a sigh and caught his breath in rapid succession. Trip opened his eyes to check everything was alright. Chris had pulled away and was frozen, his eyes closed, breathing ragged and shallow.

‘You OK?’ Trip asked, a little alarmed.

Chris opened his eyes, taking a second to focus.

‘Yeah...’ he sounded uncertain, hesitant.

‘What’s up?’ Trip’s heart sank, a familiar resignation beginning to take hold in the pit of his stomach.

Chris freed his hands from under Trip and sat right up. He looked down, his brows pulled together in thought, his lips red and wet and swollen.

‘What?’ Trip had convinced himself that he knew what was coming. That this beautiful man with his eyes full of desire and questions was about to back out before things got too much. ‘Talk to me, Chris, please, tell me what’s going on.’

Chris seemed to snap to, his furrowed brow immediately gave way to a look of concern as he cupped Trip’s face tenderly

‘Hey, no, it’s OK, don’t be scared! Trip, I’m sorry... I was trying to work out how to say... how to ask... I-I wanna take your shirt off. I wanna feel you. Please?’

Trip bit his lip and almost imperceptibly shook his head as he gazed up at Chris.

‘No.’

Chris nodded, unable to completely hide his disappointment.

‘Tell me what’s OK, Trip. I just wanna touch you, make you feel good.’

Trip was suddenly overwhelmed with uncertainty.

‘I don’t really know... I’m so scared of your reaction, of my reaction... if you touch me, if you see me...’

Chris moved off him and slid down beside Trip again, propped up on his left arm.

‘Could I ...try a few things? See how they feel? You can stop me.’

The low pitch of Chris’ voice, the sensitivity of the suggestion made it impossible to refuse. Trip murmured his assent as he slid his eyes closed and awaited Chris’ touch, his breath caught in anticipation.

Very gently, Chris laid his hand on Trip’s stomach, just beneath his tee shirt. He knew this was safe territory, they’d been here before. He pushed the fabric up so he could see as well as feel the muscles, the trail of hair that grew right down the center. As Chris stroked the warm skin, Trip tensed at the sensation, causing everything to become more defined.

‘Wow. You have an awesome six-pack.’

Trip snuffled with laughter and failed to notice for a moment that Chris had replaced his hand with his lips and was softly kissing his abs, tracing the contours with his mouth and fingers. Trip couldn’t believe how such a simple touch could elicit such a deep and intense response in him. He found himself holding his breath in and snatching sharp and still slightly painful gasps. 

‘Ah, ah, ah! Oh, God that’s good!’ he managed to whisper, clutching at the bedclothes beneath him. Chris slid his hand to Trip’s side and held tight to his waist, steadying them both as he continued to explore with his mouth.

The noises Trip was making suggested things were well within his comfort zone so far so Chris pulled back a little, resting on his arm as he very slowly slid the palm of his hand higher, up the smooth, warm slope that led to the ribcage. It was like a tactile lesson in anatomy; Chris traced the jutting arch of the ribs where they seemed to soar away from the rest of Trip’s body. He didn’t lift the shirt any higher but just navigated by touch. Trip was quiet again, his breathing steadier, deeper, his eyes still closed. Carefully watching Trip’s face for his reaction, Chris stroked his hand up the centre of Trip’s chest, tracing the line of hair that seemed to thicken as his fingers moved along the slight depression, avoiding straying to either side. As his hand reached the collar bones, Chris’ arm was pulling Trip’s shirt up. He shifted his body so he was able to keep one hand pressed to Trip’s chest beneath his shirt and the other slid under Trip’s shoulders, raising him slightly so Chris could kiss his neck and nose the collar of his shirt down to nuzzle the base of his throat. The delicate skin at the juncture of neck and collarbone was just asking to be kissed, so Chris did just that, eliciting a cry from Trip. Then he licked and nipped softly, with a small wet sound. Trip cried out even louder and jerked his chest upwards.

‘You like that, huh?’ Chris drawled against his neck, repeating the action and delighting in the response. 

Fuck, but those noises were hot!

Suddenly, the need to explore the flesh beneath Trip’s shirt didn’t seem so imperative any more. Touching and caressing the tender skin of his neck drew such delicious, desperate sounds from Trip’s lips that Chris removed his hand from Trip’s chest and used it instead to pull his collar down. He licked and kissed and nipped gently before finally burrowing deep and sucking hard below Trip’s collarbone.

‘Hey! You giving me a hickey?’ Trip’s eyes flashed open as his head strained up.

Chris pulled back a little and looked.

‘Uh. Oh, yeah. Sorry. Couldn’t resist.’ He didn’t look or sound even slightly apologetic. 

‘What are we, like twelve???’ Trip flopped back into the pillow, smiling. ‘No more hickeys, OK?’

‘Or what?’ Chris ducked down towards Trip’s irresistible neck again.

‘Or I won’t let you take my shirt off.’ 

Chris sat up abruptly.

‘You don’t have to. I understand...’

‘I’m really nervous about all of this Chris but I trust that you’ll let me down gently and if not now, then when? If you still like me when you see me in all my original glory then... well...’

‘Shhh.’ Chris put a finger to Trip’s lips, fixing him with an intense look. ‘I’m not gonna let you down, gently or otherwise. Now, can I do this?’ He slid his hands under the hem of Trip’s shirt and began to raise it. Trip lifted his arms and wriggled free, impatiently pulling the fabric from his cast arm. Chris tossed the shirt behind him, onto the floor without breaking eye contact. He saw the colour rise in Trip’s cheeks and he let his gaze slide slowly down over Trip’s upper body as his hand rested on the taut stomach.

‘You’re still beautiful and I still want you.’ He breathed. ‘I really, really want you now.’

Letting out a stuttering breath, Chris lowered his naked chest to Trip’s and pressed their lips together again, deeper, wider and more desperate than before. Trip hesitated for a split second before grabbing Chris to him and completely giving himself over to the need; his mind all but blanking out as he followed his most primal instincts.

Oh, God but Chris was touching him and running his hand over every inch of his trembling skin, over his chest and sides and stomach and up to his face and back down again and it felt incredible! It tingled and burned and awakened everything within him. Every time Chris’ hands grazed over his nipples, bolts of pure energy shot down between Trip’s thighs and he cried out, his whole body jolting up against Chris.

Chris watched this reaction for the third time and, without even thinking, pulled his mouth away from Trip’s, leant down and began to lick over his breastbone, slicking the hair, stretching the skin with his right hand and rubbing his thumb over Trip’s nipple, enticingly erect, before finally leaning in and running his tongue over it.

‘Ohhhh, GOD!’ Trip’s body lurched again, almost knocking Chris backwards, but he was ready for the reaction, expecting it, grinning in delight at the effect that his touch had.

‘Like that?’ he murmured, repeating the action, this time lingering, riding out Trip’s thrashing whilst licking and sucking at the hard little bud of sensation. He switched to the other nipple, using his wet fingers on the first side to mirror the movements of his mouth and tongue. Trip’s response was incredible, his whole body arcing as if electricity was being forced through him, crying out high and uncontrolled. Chris was so exquisitely turned on but so focussed on Trip’s pleasure that the best he could do was press his hard on against Trip’s thigh and enjoy the movement. 

Suddenly Trip broke contact as he pulled his right arm from around Chris’ back. Chris lifted his head and watched with increasing excitement as Trip unbuckled his belt and deftly ripped the buttons of his fly open. He slid his hand inside the white briefs and began to move it in slow circles, low down, level with the very bottom button.

Chris wanted so badly to slip his own hand in on top of Trip’s but he sensed that this was a step too far so he looked up at Trip’s face, eyes closed, lips open, his head thrown back and resumed where he’d left off, licking the fingers of his right hand and circling Trip’s left nipple, flicking his tongue over the right one before sucking it into his mouth.

Trip was moaning low and hard now, his hips rocking in time with his hand, slow, deep circles. As Chris licked him he gasped encouragement, a senseless string of ‘Oh God, yes, yes, yes, ohhhhhh, yessss...’

Chris’ head was spinning with the sheer intensity of the turn-on he felt touching and watching and hearing the figure beside him. Trip’s moans were building to a fever pitch now as his hand moved faster and Chris slid an arm beneath him, leaning down to kiss him tenderly and to whisper

‘Come for me, I wanna feel you come.’

‘I’m gonna... I’m so close...’ Trip breathed as Chris reached down and placed his hand with gentle pressure over Trip’s just as he began to buck his hips up and up and up with a guttural, continuous ‘UhhhhhNghNgh!’ as he rode the powerful waves pulsing all through him.

Chris cradled Trip’s body as he came, feeling the hand beneath his own slowing as the convulsions gradually lessened in intensity, watching Trip’s stomach muscles slowly relax and his breathing begin to return to normal. When Trip’s body finally collapsed with a sigh back onto the bed, Chris kissed him on the cheek, stroking his hand back up Trip’s naked torso to cup his face.

‘You are incredible. That was incredible.’ He breathed in awe.

Trip swallowed and slowly opened his eyes.

‘Yeah, it was, it really was. And you are the incredible one.’

‘I love you, Trip.’

‘Oh God, I love you too. I just... you’re amazing... you’re... I-I’

‘Shhh’ Chris stopped his lips with a kiss and then pulled the edge of the quilt over Trip’s naked chest, settling down beside him on the pillow to gaze at Trip’s profile in close-up.


	40. Chapter 40

Part Forty

Chris leant back against the bar that separated the kitchen area from the rest of the downstairs living space. It was a bit early to order take out for dinner and neither Trip nor he fancied tea or coffee or anything else, really. Trip sat at the dining table leafing idly through a magazine. 

After cuddling for half an hour or so on Chris’ bed, Trip had begun to feel rather uncomfortable again without his shirt and had awkwardly retrieved it from the floor. He’d reassured Chris that he was fine but in reality, laying on his side, acutely aware of the effects of gravity on his bare chest, he really wasn’t. Chris got it immediately and tried not to labor the fact that he was one hundred per cent fine with what he’d seen, touched... licked. Trip felt the way he felt and it would take a while before any of Chris’ reassurances would impact on a lifetime of dysphoria. He was delighted with the progress they’d already made and wasn’t about to jeopardise anything.

So they’d got up and Trip had helped him hang damp clothes on the nifty rack which lowered from the ceiling in the laundry room. Chris was almost able to cover the fact that the clothes had been in the machine since the previous morning until Trip commented on how creased they were. Which led onto a moderately embarrassing conversation during which Chris was forced to admit that he had a cleaner who usually dealt with the laundry but it was her day off...

Once the rack had been raised and the laundry had disappeared towards the heavens, they briefly looked at Chris’ awards.

‘Maybe one day soon you’ll get an Oscar to add to them?’ Trip commented.

Chris huffed out a laugh. ‘I don’t really think I’m anywhere close just yet.’

They moved towards the dining table and the awkwardness seemed to descend again. For a few minutes they remained in virtual silence, Chris offering tea, coffee, juice and then just leaning back on the bar and looking at Trip as he apparently studied Time Magazine.

Trip sensed his gaze and looked up, flustered.

‘Well, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now!’ He snapped, half joking, half genuine. ‘I feel like a fucking bug on a pin.’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you feel like that.’ Chris replied calmly. He knew this wasn’t about him anyway, but about Trip’s unease at having let down his guard. Chris wasn’t going to suggest that he would backtrack to make things easier. He had every intention of gently pushing Trip’s boundaries further, confident that though it might make Trip uncomfortable for a while, it wouldn’t make him retreat completely. 

He was too much of a fighter for that.

Once again, Chris felt his heart swell as he thought of the incredible journey Trip had taken, was still taking... hell, would probably be on for the rest of his life. He was so fucking strong! The recent tears and uncertainty belied the fact that he’d faced an extraordinary number of challenges and was discovering that he was still able to love, to let someone in, to simply be a human being. 

‘How do you do it, Trip?’ he found himself asking, out of the blue.

‘Do what?’ Trip looked up, his brow pulled down, puzzled.

‘The whole thing, your life, your job, just... everything?’

‘Same way you do yours, I guess. Just get on with it.’ Trip shrugged.

Chris wasn’t going to let him get off so easily. He shifted his weight against the counter.

‘I’ve been doing a little homework. You wanna help me out a bit?’

‘What sort of homework? What d’you mean?’ Trip looked baffled.

‘I kinda Googled ‘transgender’ and ‘FTM’ and ‘top surgery’ and some stuff. I wanted to get a real handle on what you deal with every day...’ It was Chris’ turn to feel awkward now, he felt like he was trespassing but he plowed on, twisting his fingers together ... I really wanted to ask you but I didn’t want to seem like I was using you for research or something and I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable...like a bug on a pin...’

Trip visibly relaxed and let out a short laugh.

‘I’m sorry about that, I meant that just now, when you were staring at me...’ Trip stood up and rounded the table, stopping in front of Chris, pinning him against the bar as he put his hands to Chris’ waist. Looking directly into Chris’ face, Trip began:

‘I will tell you anything and everything you want to know. I will probably tell you more than you ever wanted to know. Talking, I can do. I can describe my genitalia for you, what happens when I come, what it feels like to look down and just not see what should be there. I could talk you to death about it. Letting you see and touch and feel and... penetrate....’ he swallowed, his eyes flicking away momentarily, ‘...will take a little longer. But I want that, I want that so much. I’m just scared, OK? If I hadn’t fallen for you, if I hadn’t already got so much to lose, it might feel different... But I don’t want to lose you, to put you off... that’s why I’m scared. You understand that, right?’

Chris nodded as he replied softly. This was becoming really quite familiar territory.

‘But you need to understand that nothing’s gonna put me off, Trip. Not what’s under your shirt, not what’s in your pants, not what you have or don’t have. I had that whole conversation in my head when you were in the hospital. Pretty much in the moment when Bev and Marco told me about you. It was a really short conversation. The way I see it is...’ 

He broke off to think, pulling out a chair for himself and one for Trip, taking hold of his hands.

‘The way I see it, I like guys, I like men, I know that much about myself. I’ve dated a few people in the past, I even kissed a girl and I liked it...’ 

Chris grinned, lightening what was promising to be rather a complex speech.

‘What I mean is; I never fell in love with anyone because of what was between their legs. I’ve never slept with anyone, guy or girl but I know have feelings for men, but it’s not about what’s down there. Sure, I fell for you before I knew the whole story, when I thought things were a little simpler but once I knew, nothing changed. Why should it? You’re still the same person, the same man, you were before. I wasn’t picturing you naked or anything....’

‘You weren’t? Oh, guess that was just me then.’ Trip chipped in with a half smile.

‘Yeah, I’m sure you did! How do I compare?’ 

Trip marvelled.

‘How the fuck can you just be so cool about this?’

‘I’m not being cool, I’m just being honest. I love you. I have nothing really to compare this with, which might be a good thing. Maybe if I’d been deflowered by some hot hairy dude with a dick the size of a beer can I’d never settle for anything less but that’s not the case. I dunno, maybe even then it wouldn’t have made a difference. I can’t say I’ve ever really had a thing for hairy dudes with dicks the size of beer cans, but...’ 

Chris pretended to muse for a moment before pressing on: 

‘I don’t know how to say it any more clearly and I’m a bit scared of being insensitive but the way I imagine sex to be and what I’ve discovered so far is, it’s about finding things that feel good, whatever you have to play with and if you want something that’s not there you can... you can...’

‘...always strap it on!’ Trip finished for him.

They began to laugh.

Trip was shaking with tension, despite grinning broadly. Chris’ speech was making him literally curl up inside. The thought that Chris had considered all these issues so deeply already brought it home to him that they actually would get beyond simply getting each other off. He realised with surprise that his nerves were less about Chris’ reaction to his body and more about plain old first time anxiety. The kind of thing that anyone might feel embarking on their first intimate sexual relationship. He almost cursed himself for not just getting it all out of the way ten years ago. It was ridiculous to be feeling like this at his age. 

Ridiculous, but rather thrilling.

‘So what did you learn from Google, then?’ Trip leaned back in his chair, allowing his shoulders to drop and trying to relax.

‘What didn’t I learn? I have read and inwardly digested all of Hudson’s Guide for a start. Go on, ask me a question, go on, go on!’ Chris leaned eagerly towards him.

Trip’s brow crinkled as he grinned

‘Um, isn’t this supposed to go the other way? With you asking me?’

***


	41. Chapter 41

Part Forty-One

‘So how’s it feel?’ Chris asked a few minutes after Trip had got into the car.

‘Weird. Like the cast is still on somehow. But it feels really light.’ He experimentally stretched his fingers and twisted his wrist. ‘Ow. It’s stiff. The physio’s given me exercises to do to loosen my wrist up a bit, build the muscles up.’

‘I could think of a few wrist exercises you could do.’ Chris put in, flashing a lewd grin towards Trip as he drove.

‘I’m sure.’ Trip smiled in reply. ‘But I’m right-handed in that regard.’

‘No harm in developing ambidexterity.’ Chris shot back.

‘So, d’you know where we’re going?’ Trip settled himself into the seat, enjoying the feeling of embarking upon a journey, feeling freed not only from the cast on his arm but from his everyday life. He couldn’t remember ever having felt so excited about going somewhere.

‘I printed off a map of the route once we’re off the highway. It’s in the folder on the shelf.’ He indicated behind him with a shrug of his right shoulder. Trip reached back and found a blue envelope file filled with printouts; emails, photos, maps. Trip studied them for a few minutes before observing:

‘You know this place is right in the middle of fucking nowhere, right?’

‘Yup.’ Chris looked smug. ‘Which is why, if you look on...’ he glaced at the maps on Trip’s lap, jabbing a finger at one of them ‘...that one, you’ll see a green dot which is the last grocery store before the Great Unknown. We’ll stock up before we reach the final frontier.’

‘Cool. You sure like doing your research.’ Trip once more felt a thrill of anticipation and the warm glow that he was beginning to associate with finally trusting that someone else had things under control. No, with trusting that Chris had things under control. 

Their last, long talk at Chris’ dining table a few days before had blown away most of Trip’s remaining fears and doubts. He was astounded by how openly and honestly they had spoken and by how much he hadn’t needed to explain to Chris. The man really did do his research. They had both finally succumbed to the lure of coffee and had talked until darkness fell and until they both realised that they were starving and called in a Chinese food delivery.

Trip had agreed to stay the night and they slept curled together beneath Chris’ cloud-like feather quilt.

Trip allowed the memory of that night to hover round the edges of his mind as he looked across at Chris’ profile, his eyes focussed on the road ahead, his lips twisted slightly to one side as he absently chewed the inside of his cheek.  
Chris became aware of his gaze.

‘You wanna put some music on or something?’

‘No, I’m good.’ Trip glanced out at the sky. ‘You think it’s gonna rain? Those clouds are looking pretty ominous.’

‘Yeah, they said it might. That’s OK though. We have even more excuse to curl up in front of that fire and do absolutely nothing for ten days. We must buy matches when we stop off.’

‘You’re pretty practical, really, aren’t you?’ Trip observed.

‘Yeah, I am. I may wash my cellphone and leave the laundry for days but I can build and light a fire. Not sure about chopping firewood though. I think they said there was a supply in the outhouse.’

‘The fire seems to be a bit of a thing with you, huh?’ 

‘I guess so. Don’t you love an open fire? Cosy and romantic?’ He reached out his hand and slid it underneath the pile of papers still on Trip’s lap. Trip began to put them back into the folder, briefly squeezing Chris’ fingers with his newly-mobile left hand.

‘I’m kinda looking forward to that shower.’ Trip muttered a little sheepishly.

‘Oh, you are, are you?’ Chris teased. ‘There’s me being all romantic and snuggly and you’re cutting straight to the hot, wet shower scene. Be still my beating heart!’

‘I didn’t mean...’ Trip began, indignant, and then gave in. ‘Oh, OK then, maybe just a little. It’ll fit both of us, right?’

‘And a couple more if the photos are anything to go by..’ Chris sniggered.

‘Now who’s being suggestive?’

***

The blue soft-top sped on, eating up the miles whilst Trip and Chris chatted, listened to music, sat in amiable silence as the city turned to suburbs and suburbs to countryside. They stopped for a late lunch in a pretty town just before the road began to climb steadily into the mountains. Mid-afternoon they filled the remainder of the small trunk with groceries, some practical, some unashamedly self-indulgent. Chris insisted on a bottle of Champagne which both were astonished to see on the shelves of the little supermarket. Trip demanded a pineapple, a pot of cilantro and a carton of strawberries which were so out of season that they promised to be tasteless as well as grossly overpriced. Once the car’s tank was full of gas again, they set off, the adventure well and truly begun.

As it turned out, there was pretty much a single road leading to the area where the house was situated. Getting lost would have required a fair amount of skill and a vehicle more suited to off-road driving than the little blue soft-top. It began to rain as the road got more twisting. Chris slowed right down and the wipers batted back and forth. As the car finally pulled into the stretch of road bearing the sign ‘Faraway’, the raindrops began to hit the windshield as fat, wet splats of icy sleet.

‘Sleet? ‘ marvelled Trip ‘It’s only October! What the hell is going on?’

‘We’re pretty high up here, don’t forget.’ Chris pointed out.

Trip peered out of the window at the rapidly darkening view ahead. ‘We gonna pick up the keys from somewhere?’ He asked.

‘Yeah. The email said we could get them from the store, which should be somewhere about.... here!’ He slammed on the brakes suddenly as he caught sight of a swing sign in front of a house set well back from the road. It had a wraparound veranda, a porch and a picket fence and everything.

‘Wanna come with?’ he asked, preparing to get out of the car and make a run to the shelter of the porch.

‘Sure!’ Trip kind of wished he hadn’t put his coat in the trunk but figured they wouldn’t be outside for too long. He and Chris leaped from the warmth of the car into an icy blast of sleet, running to the porch as if their lives depended on it.

‘Jeez, it’s freezing!’ Chris exclaimed as they made it to the door, swiftly opening it and stepping inside.

Within, everything seemed to smell of spices and baking. The small room they had entered looked for all the world like a set designer had decorated someone’s front room as a country store. There was a dresser stocked with preserves and boxes of dry goods, the swept wooden floor was littered with an assorted collection of pumpkins, bundles of kindling, dog biscuits and fire irons and almost every other necessity was stashed somewhere about the walls and countertops. As they were both taking in the sensory bombardment that assaulted their eyes and noses, a sturdy-looking older woman entered the room from the doorway behind them.

‘Hi chaps, what can I get for you?’ 

They swung round in surprise at the cadence of her English accent.

‘Hi, uh, are you Liz, Lizzie?’ he faltered.

‘Lizzie, yes. You must be Chris, Pip told me to expect you.’ She thrust out a hand and gripped his in a firm, warm handshake.

‘This is Trip.’ Chris introduced and they shook hands.

‘I’ll go and get the keys for you. I put the heating on this morning so it should be nice and warm up there. Everything’s clean and I popped bread and milk and a few things in the fridge. You’ll need to do the alarm though...’ She was calling over her shoulder as she moved into a back room and returned with a brown envelope.

‘There are three keys, the two door locks and this one...’ she fished about in the bottom of the envelope, producing a small silver key ‘...is the alarm. Just inside the front door on the wall. Turn it anti-clockwise. Uh, counter-clockwise, I mean.’ She laughed.

‘It’s OK,’ Chris smiled back with a lofty look, ‘I speak English.’

‘Was your journey OK? Hope the weather didn’t put you off.’ Lizzie asked, handing the envelope to Chris.

‘No, the journey was fine. It only started to sleet as we got up here actually.’ Chris said, peering into the envelope and pulling out a sheaf of papers.

Lizzie waved at the papers dismissively: ‘Oh, Pip puts in full instructions, I figure you can read those over a nice cuppa a bit later. Most important is that you get inside without the alarm going off, right?’ 

‘Yeah!’ Chris agreed. A nice cuppa was looking awfully appealing right about now.

‘Um, is there wood to make a fire or should we get some?’ Trip asked, casting a sideways glance towards Chris.

‘No, no, there’s masses up there. Basket beside the fire should see you through tonight, shut the burner doors before you go to bed. More logs out the back in the shed. Matches in the top drawer beside the hobtop.’ Lizzie had plainly dealt with a few vacationers with the same dreams of cosy firesides.

‘Oh, and if you want to drop by to eat here, just give me a heads up the evening before so I can get something in for you. Tea and cakie things I always have in, restaurant’s right through there, basic but not too expensive!’ She pointed through into another room which had two or three small tables covered in checked cloths.

‘Wow. You really do the full service here!’ Chris sounded genuinely impressed.

Lizzie grinned impishly, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

‘Well, not the full service but I can usually find what you need.’

Chris blushed but Lizzie caught his eye and winked.

‘Well, I guess we’ll get going then. Thanks for everything, Lizzie.’

‘No problem. Have a great stay and come on down if you need anything, I’m here most of the time. If I’m out Michelle’ll be here.’ Lizzie opened the front door for them and they reluctantly left the spicy warmth and ran back through the sleet to the car.  
A few minutes later they pulled up again on an area of rough gravel in front of the house they’d seen on the website. It was long and low with horizontal panels of wood cladding the whole front save for a three pane window covered in a grille. They easily worked out the front door locks and the alarm and pushed ahead into the main body of the house, slapping on the lights and exclaiming as the interior was revealed.

‘Wow!’ 

Chris stopped dead on the threshold of the huge room. Trip peered over his shoulder and was similarly speechless. Both gazed around them from the slanting ceiling to the white painted walls, hung with contemporary art; from the neat kitchen area lining one wall to the dining table, sofa and modern-looking fireplace.

‘Wow!’

Trip pulled himself together.

‘I’ll get our stuff in while I still have my shoes on.’

‘I’ll help, I don’t want to go exploring till I’ve taken my shoes off. C’mon, let’s get everything in. This place is amazing!’ Chris’ voice rose to an excited squeal as he raced back out into the miserable weather and they both began unloading the car. 

Finally, the last load was in and stacked in the small hallway inside the front door and they both uttered a contented sigh and they shucked off slushy shoes and carted the bags into the main part of the house.

‘Oh my God! The floor is warm!’ Trip gasped as he carried the groceries to the kitchen counter.

‘Underfloor heating.’ Chris confirmed, flexing his sock-clad toes against the floor as he hefted his bag and dumped it in the living area.

‘Hey,’ he turned to Trip and reached out a hand. Trip moved closer and Chris wrapped him in tight embrace, snaking his hands under Trip’s sweater. 

‘This is gonna be one fun vacation.’

‘Yeah, I really think it is.’ Trip murmured against Chris’ warm neck.

***


	42. Chapter 42

Part Forty-Two

Delighting in the warmth of the floor beneath their socked feet, Chris and Trip began to take a look round. In the large, main area was a six seat dining table overhung with an intriguing white lampshade. Further into the centre of the space were a sofa and two comfy-looking chairs gathered in front of a red painted fireplace. Two cylindrical red chimney pipes disappeared upwards and through the top of the window recess in which the fireplace was set. The windows looked out onto a wooded garden, dark and gloomy in the sleet so Trip found the controller for the external wooden blinds and closed them. The window further along had a deep, low sill covered with cushions: the perfect window seat. Beneath the window seat and to either side of the fire were shelves and cupboards housing books, a CD system, blankets and board games. On the opposite wall was the cleverly designed kitchen and, at either end of the worktop, a door: one was a walk-in pantry and the other held a refrigerator and freezer and assorted kitchen necessaries.

‘Ooh look! Master bedroom!’ Chris called out as he disappeared through a door at one end of the room. Trip followed him into a spacious room with a huge bed in it. Chris was already bouncing on it in delight.

‘So where’s the other bedroom? Trip asked tentatively. He didn’t want to give the impression that he was definitely going to use it but he wanted to check it out nonetheless.

‘Uh, must be at the other end.’ Chris nodded in the direction of the farthest part of the house. He had obviously bagged this room for his own, whether Trip was going to share with him or not.

Trip wandered to the other end of the house, past a screen and a strangely substantial partition wall which, when he prodded it, proved to house a pair of fold-down twin beds. Behind this was a door leading to a small room containing built-in bunks. Through another sliding door were two identical bunks. Perfect for kids and their friends but not necessarily what he’d visualised as a bedroom for himself. Still, he felt quite content at the thought that he could share the vast bed at the other end of the house. In fact he was rather looking forward to putting himself into a situation that would probably have a fairly predictable outcome...

His heart was pounding as he carefully closed the door and returned to the main living area.

‘What’s the other bedroom like?’ Chris came towards him from the master bedroom executing what looked suspiciously like a skip. He stopped in front of the fireplace.

‘Bunk beds’ Trip smiled. 

Chris’ face fell. ‘Oh...’

‘It’s fine,’ Trip grinned ‘I’ll share with you.’ He paused for a beat and then, just as Chris’ face began to brighten, threw in: ‘We can top and tail!’

Chris shot a look at him and, realising Trip wasn’t serious, he grinned and hugged Trip tightly. 

‘I hoped you’d want to sleep with me. I was kind of counting on it. But if it doesn’t work out, I’ll sleep in a bunk. I don’t mind.’

‘Let’s see, huh?’ Trip muttered softly into Chris’ shoulder. ‘Now, did you find that shower yet?’

‘No, I think it must be back through the hallway.’ Chris pulled away and headed towards the door leading back to the wood panelled entrance. Sure enough, another couple of doors led from a laundry area into a lavatory and the monumental shower room. 

They both stepped in.

‘Wow, this is fantastic! Can you imagine this with the light pouring through the window?’ Chris marvelled.

‘Nope. But I can imagine it with the water pouring down from that.’ He pointed up at a showerhead even bigger than his own at home. 

‘Jeez, it must be like standing under a waterfall!’ Chris replied, absently fiddling with the taps.

Trip knocked his hand away. ‘Don’t do that, you’ll get us both soaked!’

‘Mmmm, then we’d have to take all our wet clothes off...’ Chris cast Trip a look which he chose to ignore.

‘I’m hungry. Wanna help me make dinner?’ Trip asked over his shoulder as he returned to the main part of the house.

‘Sure. What are we having?’ Chris was already filling the kettle and putting it to boil for a cup of tea.

‘Thai chicken in lime and cilantro coconut milk accompanied by jasmine rice and a nice glass of champagne to celebrate our vacation.’ Trip was secretly pleased that he’d planned this one in advance.

‘That sounds delicious. Want me to open the bubbles?’ Chris bent down and began ratching through the drawers looking for a corkscrew.

Trip located the bottle, still in its paper grocery store bag. ‘Um... let’s leave it to chill for a bit. Besides... Champagne...’ he tapped the cork, demonstrating that there was no need for a bottle opener. Chris closed the drawer, feeling and looking a bit sheepish.

‘I knew that. I really did. I’m just excited.’ He straightened up. ‘So can I help?’

Between them, they packed away the food and carried their bags into the bedroom. Then Chris made tea and settled beneath the low hanging lampshade at the dining table to read the owner’s detailed instructions whilst Trip busied himself cooking dinner.

It wasn’t long before mouth-watering smells filled the whole house and Chris sidled up behind Trip at the stove.

‘That smells fantastic.’ He breathed, encircling Trip’s waist with his arms. ‘Did you have this all planned out?’

‘Possibly’ Trip continued to stir the pan. ‘Can you lay the table? Silverware’s in the top drawer. You have to push it in to release the catch. Took me a couple of minutes to figure that one out.’

Chris relinquished his hold and went to the drawer. Sure enough, he pushed it and it sprang out again.

‘Neat piece of design.’ He observed as he removed knives and forks, laying them each a place at the table. ‘You found the glasses yet?’

‘No, try that cupboard there.’ Trip nodded to his left.

Sure enough, Chris found complete sets of wine glasses, tumblers and Champagne flutes. He lifted two of the latter down and set them on the table. Then he decided to put out tumblers as well, just in case.

‘OK, this is about ready to serve. You gonna open the booze?’ Trip carefully laid the wooden spoon he’d been stirring with on the edge of the pan and turned off the heat.

‘Sure.’ Chris opened the fridge. After a minute’s struggle to loosen the cork, he finally was able to push it with his thumb and it shot across the room, he swiftly grabbed a glass to catch the frothing overflow.

‘Oops, it’s not meant to do that, is it? I guess it got all shaken up in the car.’ He finished pouring and handed a glass to Trip.

‘To our escape from L.A!’ Chris toasted, raising his glass to clink it with Trip’s.

‘Escape from L.A.’ Trip echoed, taking a sip. 

‘Sounds like a movie title.’ Chris said.

‘It is. 1996. It was awful.’

‘I knew that.’ Chris smiled.

Trip shook his head and began arranging fragrant rice onto two shallow white dishes. 

***


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW sexytimes. Reasonably graphic.

Part Forty-Three

Later that evening, after dinner and washing up, after discussing how the heating timer worked and which side of the wardrobe they would each use, Chris made a passable attempt at laying a fire. Several matches and sheets of scrunched up newspaper later, it looked like it might actually stay alight and he sat back on his heels in front of the smoking, popping flames.

‘There!’ he breathed in satisfaction.

Trip had been watching in silent amusement for quite some time, biting back criticisms and suggestions. He felt peculiarly worldly-wise as he watched Chris’ repeated failure to keep the fire alight.

‘Looking good.’ He commented from the sofa, leaning back and linking his fingers behind his neck, elbows wide, legs stretched out. Having Chris at his feet, watching in childish delight as the fire, his fire, took hold, felt curiously comfortable. There was something about the scene that made him feel mature and in control. His pose felt avuncular, his restraint from putting Chris right as he built the fire made him faintly proud... letting the boy make his own mistakes...

Wait.

The boy...?

Trip pondered as Chris placed a larger log on the fire and proceeded to stretch out full length on the rug facing it. 

Chris wasn’t much more than a boy... Trip was eight whole years older. Yet Chris was the one who had seemed so much more mature these last few weeks. He was the one certain of his feelings, of his actions. He had been the one to take control lately; of the press, of planning the vacation... of their relationship. 

Trip stretched his left hand, absent-mindedly performing the exercises the physio had given him.

Yet right now, looking at Chris sprawling on the floor, his tousled head resting on his hand as he watched the flames, his plaid shirt untucked from the back of his jeans, Trip felt so fervently protective of him. He wanted to capture this moment in which Chris was distanced from the media, the industry, untrammelled by all the issues that dogged his daily life. Trip suddenly understood why this vacation and the sheer isolation were so important to Chris. It offered him a rare opportunity to just be himself, or rather, to not be all the things everyone else expected him to be. Chris seemed to habitually take charge, to convey the impression that he knew exactly what he was doing. He was incessantly charming and sweet and it must be exhausting for him. 

Trip slid down onto the rug behind Chris. He slipped his arm around his waist and pressed his body along Chris’, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

‘Hey’ Trip breathed into the warm skin inside the collar.

‘Hey yourself’ Chris replied, trying to turn his head.

‘C’mere’ Trip gently rolled Chris onto his back and leaned over him, capturing his lips in a deep, warm kiss. Chris responded with a murmuring hum, raising his hand to the back of Trip’s head to pull him in closer. Trip just wanted to be near him, to hold this wonderful creature to him, to protect him and make him safe and happy. He moved his body closer still, wrapping his left arm right across Chris’ torso, tangling their socked feet together and kissing and kissing and kissing him.

‘Is it me, or is it getting hot in here?’ Chris breathed as Trip took a moment’s pause.

‘Wanna take something off?’ Trip replied with a small smile.

‘I will if you will.’ Chris looked up at him, challenge glinting in his eye.

Trip immediately sat up and pulled his sweater over his head.

‘Your turn!’ he grinned, beginning to undo the buttons on Chris’ plaid shirt. Once he’d undone them all he pushed it open, revealing a white ribbed undershirt.

‘That is quite unbearably sexy.’ Trip commented, trailing a finger along the dipping neckline of the garment.

‘You again!’ Chris replied, untucking the hem of Trip’s tee shirt from his jeans and lifting it up.

Trip helped him to take it off, quite comfortable in the fact that he was once again wearing a compression shirt beneath which looked almost identical to Chris’ singlet.

Chris sucked in a breath.

Talking of sexy... that makes your arms look incredible! In fact it makes your whole body...’ he broke off as Trip began unbuckling his belt.

‘Ohhh! Oh, I see how it is...’ Chris sat up, pushing Trip gently away. ‘Clever! You are always one piece of clothing ahead, huh? I’m naked before you, right?’

Trip laughed, rubbing his hand slowly over Chris’ crotch.

‘Seems like you could use a little more freedom down here.’

Chris stretched his neck as he leaned back on his arms, fingers digging into the rug.

‘Ohhh. You keep doing that and I’ll break free all on my own.’

‘Wow. Promises, promises. Hold that thought, I’m gonna go put something on, if that’s OK with you?’

Trip sat back on his heels, eyes searching Chris’ for a moment.

Chris’ face brightened: ‘You mean... you brought it?’

Trip nodded ‘Of course. I’m not missing this opportunity. Wait right there.’

Chris stayed where he was, his heart beating faster. This was it! It was finally happening! He glanced around him, taking in the scene, wanting to remember even the tiny details. The twig on the floor in front of the fireplace, the exact placement of the logs on the fire, the colours in the rug... he looked up as he heard Trip approach from the bedroom.

‘Just lay down, Chris. I’ve got this.’ Trip’s voice was deep and soft and could not be argued with. Chris did as he was told and relaxed back onto the rug. His eyes rose curiously, wanting to see the harness Trip had put on, the prosthetic they’d talked about Trip ordering...

Trip knelt down beside him, his hand on the shaft that sprouted from between his legs. As he leaned forward to kiss Chris once more, he placed a small bottle and a silver packet just to the side of the rug. It was his turn to plan ahead now.

‘Let’s get rid of these, shall we?’ Trip finished undoing Chris’ jeans and between them they slipped off jeans and underwear in one move, Chris’ erection bobbing free as they went. Next he pulled off Chris’ singlet, leaning in for a deep kiss as he discarded it on the floor.

Without a word, Trip abandoned Chris’ mouth and kissed lower; down his neck, chest, stomach and finally coming to rest where his cock alternately rested and strained from the juncture of his thighs. 

Trip gently wrapped his fingers around the shaft and lifted it towards his mouth, licking the head with one slow movement. Chris cried out loud, an involuntary ‘AHHH!’ of sheer pleasure. Trip continued to lick, over the glistening head and down the velvet-softness, running his tongue over the thick veins on the underside. He held the very base between his fingers and thumb and moved Chris’ cock so he could finally wrap his lips around the head and slide it deep into his mouth. Chris’ head was thrown back onto the rug, noises and gasps escaping his mouth each time Trip moved over him. He seemed utterly unaware of what he was doing, of the sounds he was making, going on sheer instinct alone. His fingers dug into the rug on either side of his body as he struggled to keep from bucking up into Trip’s gloriously hot, wet mouth.

‘You taste incredible, Chris.’ Trip purred, pulling off for a moment.

‘That feels amazing... God, how do you...?’ suddenly it didn’t seem important to ask anymore as Trip swallowed his cock deeper than before, obscene sucking sounds drowning out the crackling of the fire as he went.

As he sucked Chris’ cock deeper into his mouth, Trip allowed one hand to slip from the base to gently cup Chris’ balls. Tentatively he ran his fingertips over them, scraping his nails lightly as Chris moaned encouragement. Trip pulled his lips to the very end of Chris’ cock as his fingers moving further back, tickling over the sensitive skin of Chris’ perineum. 

‘Oh God... yes, I want you to...’ Chris was almost whining now, desperate with need. ‘Touch me, Trip, please!’

Trip was only too happy to comply and he lifted his head slightly and shifted so he could reach back to stroke Chris’ tight little entrance. Chris allowed his legs to spread further apart, lifting his hips up slightly, keening softly as he did so. Trip kept his fingers where they were, exploring, stroking, teasing as he moved his body alongside Chris’ once more, leaning up and looking into his face, resting on his left arm.

‘Tell me what you want, Chris.’ He murmured, voice low, almost breaking with the waves of fear and excitement washing over him.

‘Oh, touch me, put a finger in me, I wanna feel you inside me.’ Chris’s voice was high and breathless in anticipation.

‘Yeah? You want me inside you?’ Trip repeated, lifting his hand away from Chris and reaching for the bottle of lube. Operating the pump top with one hand, he slicked up his fingers and returned his hand far back between Chris’ legs, rubbing the slippery wetness all around Chris’ hole before slowly, carefully slipping the tip of his middle finger inside. Chris hissed, resisting the urge to tense up, taking a breath and allowing Trip to push further in. It felt strange, alien, and quite incredibly sexy. He couldn’t wait for Trip to take things slow and he moaned ‘More!’ almost at once.

‘Two?’ Trip checked, looking up.

‘Yeah, feels amazing’ Chris swallowed.

Trip didn’t need any more encouragement and slid one finger out, pressing two back in, slowly, grazing past the resistance and sliding all the way in. It was tight and hot and he could feel Chris moving around him. He experimentally crooked the middle finger slightly, twisting it upwards and watching as Chris’ hips writhed with the sensation.

‘Fuck! What was that, what did you do? Do it again!’

Trip repeated the movement and Chris’ hips bucked up involuntarily.

‘Ahhhh! God! Fuck!’ Chris all but shouted, his eyes suddenly flashing open in wonder.

Trip relaxed his fingers for a moment. ‘I think we just found your prostate...’

‘Find it again!’ Chris breathed, trying to relax back onto the rug again and failing completely as Trip crooked his fingers once more.

Trip kept up the pressure as he began to slowly pump his fingers in and out, grazing over the magic spot with each stroke. Chris writhed and cried out in time with the movements, the plains of his torso glowing in the firelight. Trip was finding it increasingly difficult to hold back from simply thrusting three fingers into him and pumping hard and fast when Chris shouted out:

‘More! Faster...! I want... I want...’

‘What do you want? Tell me?!’ The base of Trip’s stomach coiled tightly and he hoped he knew what Chris would reply...

‘I want you to fuck me, Trip. Fuck me, I’m ready...’

There it was!

Trip tenderly withdrew his fingers, using that hand to support himself over Chris’ body as he moved up to hold Chris, kissing him deeply and whispering ‘I love you so much, Chris’ before kneeling up, tearing open the condom packet with his teeth and rolling it on over his dick. Chris smiled as he watched, reaching out a hand to stroke down the silicone-swathed shaft.

‘Just keeping things healthy’ Trip grinned as he watched Chris’ hand. ‘Do that again, it looks incredible.’

Chris stroked up and down the length again

‘Packing hard.’ He breathed ‘It sounds so fucking sexy. It looks so fucking sexy’

Trip caught his breath as he watched. He may not have been able to directly feel what Chris was doing but it was certainly having the desired effect. The tiny pressure of each movement on his swollen clit, what he called his dick in his own mind, was enough to build the pleasure between his thighs. He wasn’t waiting a moment longer.

He grabbed the lube bottle and anointed his dick, allowing Chris’ hand to slick it down the shaft and then he manoeuvred himself between Chris’ legs, spreading his knees wide and slipping his fingers inside once more. Chris fell back with a moan, completely at his mercy, open and ready and willing.

Trip lined up the head of his dick with Chris’ entrance, guiding himself in, shifting slightly to get the angle right. Chris lifted up as Trip began to push, slowly, steadily, firmly and... oh.... As Trip watched his dick inching its way inside of Chris and listened to the broken sounds Chris was uttering, gasps and cries and stifled moans, Trip felt heat pooling between his thighs, he could feel it, he could actually feel it! Chris’ reached down and wrapped his hand around his cock, hard and aching between them.

‘Oh God, watching you touch yourself, it makes me wanna... wanna...’ Trip bit his lip as he thrust the last of himself in and rested there for a moment.

‘Is that OK? I don’t wanna be hurting you.’ Trip was barely able to get the words out.

‘Don’t stop, Trip, oh please don’t stop... don’t stop!’ The desperation in Chris’ voice was enough to break down the last remaining shred of Trip’s uncertainty, he tore through any attempt to hold back, forgot his concerns about hurting Chris, doing it wrong, making an idiot out of himself and just let go, fucking Chris hard and deep and fast, one hand holding the base of his dick, pressing it firmly against his own body, feeling his orgasm building and hearing himself grunting deep and low.

‘Oh God, you’re gonna make me....I’m gonna... nnnnngggghhhhhaaaa!’

A final thrust deep into Chris and he was coming hard over his hand, his belly; hot wet spurts landing even on the rug beside him. The very sight of it and the sound of his satisfaction was enough to push Trip over the edge and he felt his insides explode as he continued to move against Chris, almost sobbing with the intensity of it all.

‘Oh God, oh God, oh God ohhhhh fuuuck!’ Chris panted as his body slowed its convulsions.

Trip was suddenly aware that his mouth was hanging open and his eyes were closed so with a dry swallow he closed the one and opened the other, allowing himself to very slowly ease out of Chris and to slump down close beside him. Chris let out a pained cry as Trip pulled out and Trip reached out to hold him tight, to kiss him, to adore him, little caring about the condom slithering off the end of his dick or the cooling pools of come on Chris’ belly and beneath him on the rug. He just wanted to be close, wanted their bodies to be touching in as many places as possible, to almost clamber inside of Chris, this time perhaps via his pores...

Trip shook away the image, conscious that he sometimes had such weird thoughts post-orgasm.

‘Oh my fucking God!’ breathed Chris reverently.

‘You OK?’ Trip’s eyes were wide and fixed on his face.

‘Oh God, yes. I’m fine. ‘ he paused for a second. ‘I wanna do it again!’

Trip laughed. ‘What? Right away?’

‘Maybe in a bit.’ Chris conceded. ‘You know what?’

‘What?’

‘You just popped my cherry.’

‘I guess I did.’ Trip considered for a minute. ‘Does that count for me too?’

‘What d’you mean?’

‘Does that count as me losing mine too? Or do we y’know, have to switch roles?’ Trip didn’t really care one way or the other. He was just happy to be wrapped around this wonderful man who had accepted all that he was almost without question.

‘Yeah,’ Chris was saying ‘That was definitely both of us losing our virginity together. With each other. And it was fucking awesome. And I wanna do it a whole lot more.’

‘Me too. Thank you.’

‘Thank you, too.’

The fire continued to crackle and pop beside them as they snuggled in its warm glow.


	44. Chapter 44

Part Forty-Four

They lay by the fire in the cosy afterglow for what seemed like hours. Chris was perfectly content to remain naked and whilst Trip had kept his compression shirt on, his lower half remained clad in only the harness and his packer. 

‘Let’s have a closer look at you’ Chris said, leaning up and moving a hand down Trip’s body.

‘You talking to me or my dick?’ Trip grinned, almost proudly thrusting his hips forward.

‘You...both... it’s part of you so... both.’ Chris seemed not to even have considered the separation.

Trip let him explore the prosthetic, how it attached to the harness, the feel of it.

‘It doesn’t look very realistic’ Trip observed a little regretfully.

‘Feels pretty fucking realistic.’ Chris replied, shifting his ass on the rug.

‘Did I hurt you?’ Trip was suddenly concerned again.

‘Only in the best possible way. It’s kinda nice actually.’ Chris gave a shamefaced half smile.

‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t start all that again. I said I liked it. Besides, I fully intend to return the favor before too long.’ Chris smiled all the way this time.

‘Um... should we talk about that?’ Trip began.

‘Yes, you want to? Let me know how and where and...’ Chris stopped, not wanting to be guilty of making too light of what was probably a pretty sensitive subject for Trip.

Trip snuffled a laugh and dipped his head, suddenly aware of his dick jutting out awkwardly between them. It seemed a little unnecessary now that they had finished and he reached down to bend it slightly out of the way, keeping his hand over it.

‘Uh, I might go change, I feel a bit overdressed for fireside chat.’

Chris pulled his legs up in front of him and wrapped his arms round his knees.

‘OK, no problem.’

Trip stood up, self-consciously cupping himself and facing away from Chris. He felt much more awkward now than he had beforehand. Lust certainly seemed to lend him added boldness.

Chris watched him heading back to the bedroom.

‘Hey, Trip!’ he called after him.

Trip stopped and half turned back. ‘Yeah?’

‘You look amazing. That felt amazing...’

Trip blushed and was about to thank him when Chris added

...and your ass is gorgeous and tomorrow it is miiiiine.’

Trip reached the bedroom door and allowed his face to split into a huge smile as he began to unfasten the harness and detach his dick. He’d have to clean it up later, he wasn’t going to waste this fireside opportunity to get the details of his own finest hour teased out.

Pulling on a pair of loose sweatpants, he headed back out to the living area. Chris had given himself a cursory wipedown with his tee shirt and was wearing his boxer briefs again. By the glow of the fire, he looked like a centrefold in a soft core gay porn spread. Trip felt his stomach flip at the very sight of him.

‘Damn, how do you look so good?’ He said, sitting back down beside Chris.

‘Everyone looks good by firelight. You can’t see the flaws.’ Chris replied, putting a hand out to Trip’s thigh. ‘So... you were gonna tell me how and where.’

Trip looked at Chris, then away at the fire. Gazing into the flames, lower now but still putting out heat, he allowed his eyes to glaze slightly, to remove a little from the moment. It made this conversation a bit easier somehow.

‘I don’t want you to go where they did...’ he began softly ‘...I never really wanted that, but now even less so. It’s too wrong, it’s not how I see myself.’ He stopped, looking at Chris again.

‘D’you understand?’

‘Yes. I think I do. What about me... touching you? What about seeing you? How... what...?’ Chris stopped. He knew Trip could fill in the gaps.

Trip sighed.

‘I dunno. Could you... could we maybe try a position where that’s not so much of an issue? From behind maybe? I’m still kinda nervous about that.’ Trip pulled his knees up now, bending his neck so his chin rested on them. He felt protected, curled up like this.

‘Good idea. I get to appreciate your ass like I wanted to all along.’ Chris decided that telling Trip he’d had the exact same idea wasn’t really necessary. The guy needed a bit of control here. He sat up and reached for Trip’s legs, unfolding them and laying them on the rug. Trip looked curious and then caught onto what he was doing. 

Shuffling back, he leant against the sofa and Chris wriggled between his legs, finally resting his back against Trip’s chest, his head nestled just beneath Trip’s chin. Trip wrapped his arms around Chris’ bare chest and burrowed a kiss into his hair.

‘I can’t believe I’m here with you. You are just so incredible. I keep wondering when this dream is gonna end. No, not dream, fantasy.’ Trip spoke into Chris’ hair, warm and thick, smelling smoke and shampoo and sweat.

‘I do, too. I was worried that I’d never find someone who just liked me for me and not who they thought I was or some character I played. Hollywood is full of starfuckers and you don’t find out until it’s too late.’ Chris rolled his head against Trip’s mouth, enjoying the feel of his hair scrunching against Trip’s chest.

‘Has that happened to you?’

‘Couple times. Not the actual starfucking bit, but dating, yeah. Once with a friend who should have known better and once with a kiss and tell. That was how I got to know Dani. She was amazing, keeping that one quiet.’

Trip knew not to press further. If and when Chris chose to reveal details, that would be up to him. Besides, Trip couldn’t be any more content with what he already knew: Chris needed someone to love him for who he really was and to keep his secrets and to maintain his front to the world whilst getting right under his skin in private. 

In fact, exactly what Trip needed. 

Exactly.

‘Wanna stoke up the fire or go to bed?’ Trip asked, glancing over at the dying glow coming from the remains of the logs.

‘Mmmm, let’s stay here for just a bit longer. This feels really nice.’ Chris let out a long, deep sigh and closed his eyes. ‘I really love you, Trip. You know that, right? I’m not just saying it to make you feel good. I know I’ve said it before and I am an actor and I can fake a lot of stuff but not this. I want you to know that.’ Chris craned his neck round to look up at Trip.

‘I know, Chris. I’m really starting to believe you. I’m learning to trust you. I love you too. It feels like love, I’m calling it love. I’ve never felt like this about anyone and I’ve never let anyone do the things we do.’ 

There was a pause. A log shifted in the fire, releasing a cloud of sparks.

‘D’you get that thing in your stomach when it clenches up and your heart kinda leaps whenever you think about me or something we’ve done? Like, I’m getting it now, thinking about this evening...’ Trip asked.

‘Yes! It’s wonderful, oh God, I love that feeling! Like being on a rollercoaster...’

‘Yes! That’s it!’ Trip squeezed Chris tightly and leant down to place a kiss on his temple.

‘What d’you wanna do tomorrow?’ Chris drawled, his voice lazy with relaxation, his eyes staring at the remains of the fire.

‘I dunno. Make pancakes for breakfast?’

‘That sounds like a really great plan for the day. I’m up for that. We can take the rest as it comes.’

‘Perfect.’

‘I’m falling asleep, here. Gonna take a quick shower and go to bed, OK?’ Chris reluctantly released himself from Trip’s encircling arms and slowly stood up. Trip set about poking the embers of the fire and shutting the burner doors. He suddenly thought about the harness and contents that he’d abandoned on the bed earlier and then shrugged to himself. He figured that Chris was already pretty familiar with his equipment, if he wanted a good look, now was his chance. It had ceased to be something Trip felt self-conscious about. Trip idly wondered if Bev knew a film prosthetics professional who could be commissioned to make him something a bit more realistic and resolved to talk to her when he got back home. Suddenly there was a reason to be up front about these things. In more ways than one.

Chris wandered by on his way to the shower.

‘I won’t be long, wanna come in after?’

‘Yeah, OK. Enjoy.’ It seemed like a weird thing to say and Trip wasn’t sure if Chris was testing out whether he wanted to come in with him. He thought not and besides, Trip wasn’t ready for that yet. It seemed paradoxical that they should have gone as far as they had earlier but Trip wasn’t ready for Chris to see him fully naked. He pushed the thought away. It would happen. It would happen soon. His wasn’t an ordinary situation, he needed to be gentle with himself.

Trip followed after Chris to the hallway and locked the front door. Then he straightened the cushions on the sofa, smoothed the rumpled rug and made his way back to the bedroom. He stashed the packer away in his washbag, ready to sort it out in the shower. Then he flopped onto the bed to wait for Chris to finish in the shower. 

They hadn’t even been on vacation for a whole day yet and already Trip was feeling relaxed, sleepy and ridiculously self-satisfied. He exercised his left wrist, stretching and twisting it as far as he could without making it hurt too much. 

It seemed like his life was on a definite upswing.


	45. Chapter 45

Part Forty-Five

The shower had entirely fulfilled both their expectations, raining down on each of them separately whilst they considered the options of showering together. Trip had wandered back through the house afterwards ensuring the lights were off, the burner doors on the fireplace were closed and everything was settled for the night. It felt like playing house. He was Daddy, returning from work. A sudden flashback from early childhood struck him. He’d been Daddy then, coming back to the little wooden playhouse at kindergarten to Mommy and the matty-haired baby with one eye that didn’t close. ‘Going to work’ in those days meant walking out of the door, round the mat and back in again. It was also something that only the Daddy did. Trip smiled to himself as he remembered the simplicity of those distant days. Who could have predicted that he would still be casting himself as the ‘Daddy’ and ‘going to work’ would be throwing himself off high places and deliberately getting into fights?

Trip hung in the doorway of the bedroom. Chris was curled on one side of the bed reading a book by the light of the swan-necked lamp on the bedside table. He looked sleepy and cosy. Once again, Trip found himself overwhelmed with a desire to protect him. As he looked he considered the paradox of the past few weeks; the person with the tough guy job and the tough guy image and the tough guy mentality (and those extra eight years’ experience!) being effectively nursed back to health and stability and confidence by the rumple-haired young man snuggled beneath the quilt. The rumple-haired young man that he himself had possessed and pleasured to the point of complete abandon earlier that evening. Trip’s insides flipped over in their entirety as he thought back. Chris looked up:

‘Hey, you coming to bed?’

‘Yeh. I’m just admiring you.’ He moved to the edge of the bed where Chris lay. Sitting down in the space left by the curve of Chris’ body and legs, he peered over Chris’ book.

‘What are you reading?’

Chris closed the book, keeping his thumb in the page. ‘MaryAnn in Autumn, Armistead Maupin. It’s an old favourite.’

‘Yeah, I read it awhile back. That the one where they go to the house in the mountains? MaryAnn has cancer, right?’ Trip looked at the cover.

‘That’s the one. I thought it was appropriate reading. For a vacation in the mountains, I mean... not...’

Trip stood once more and came round to his own side of the bed. Chris replaced his bookmark, a receipt from the bookstore he’d bought the book in, and put the book on the bedside table. As Trip climbed in, pulling the covers over himself, Chris rolled over to face him. 

‘Today has been a really amazing day. You seem to be more yourself again, after getting that cast off.’ Chris observed.  
‘Yeah, it’s funny, now I have my body more or less back again, I feel different, more confident.’ Trip turned to face Chris and their knees met under the quilt. Chris reached a hand out to touch Trip’s face. He brushed his fingers over the light stubble on the jaw, traced a line along Trip’s hairline and then combed though his hair, noticing the lighter colouring growing out at the roots.

‘Your hair’s growing out, we won’t look so alike soon.’ Chris commented softly.

‘Did we really look so alike?’ Trip asked uncertainly.

‘I thought so. A little, anyway.’ Chris pouted slightly.

‘So what I’m hearing is you liked me because I looked like you..?’ Trip began to gently tease.

Chris feigned indignation ‘No!’ he removed his hand and swatted Trip’s shoulder.

Trip caught it as he was about to pull it away. He wove his fingers with Chris’ and laid their hands on the pillow between them.

‘I’m thinking of going blond.’ Trip said as he gazed into Chris’ eyes.

‘That’d work.’ Chris replied. ‘They have more fun, you know.’

‘Excellent! More fun than I’m having right now: I may overdose.’ Trip smiled as a yawn began to overtake him.

‘Want me to turn out the light?’ Chris asked, stifling a yawn of his own.

‘Yeh, go on then. I just love looking at you.’

‘I love you touching me.’ Chris twitched his lips as he said it, as if encouraging Trip to engage with the comment.

‘Well, turn out the light and we’ll see what occurs.’ Trip murmured.

‘I don’t think anything’s going to occur.’ Chris replied, snaking his arm around Trip’s waist and snuggling close. ‘I’m really sleepy. I just wanna hold you.’

‘Exactly what I wanted you to do.’ Trip was already half asleep.

Chris lay for less than five minutes listening to Trip’s breathing and the absolute silence of the house before he too fell into a deep sleep.

***

Chris was roused far too early the following morning by his Blackberry buzzing insistently on the bedside table. He fumbled for it, conveniently knocking it onto the floor and rejecting the call at the same time.

‘Shit.’ He cursed softly as he leaned out of the bed to try and reach the phone on the floor. He’d fixed it so that only calls from certain important numbers were allowed through so he knew he’d have to see just who he’d cut off. Sighing, he sat up, pushing back the covers and leaning down to finally retrieve it. Dani’s mobile and the voicemail icon were showing on the screen.

‘Everything OK?’ Trip asked from deep in his pillow.

‘Yeah. Dani tried to call. I gotta see what’s up.’ Chris speed dialled his voicemail and listened to the message she’d left.

Dani was apologetic and then reassuring and then insistent that he and Trip stay where they were and not be concerned. In fact, she had decided, it was by far the best way of dealing with everything.

‘Uhh... Trip? Dani called. It’s kind of hit the fan...’

Trip opened his eyes, his heart beating rapidly in what might have been fear or excitement.

‘The press have found out, huh?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Gotta give it to them, they’re good...’

‘You OK?’

‘Yep. I am if you are. What happened?’ Trip began to slowly raise himself on the pillows, wincing as he put his weight on his left wrist.

‘Kinda what we expected. A couple trash rags ran the story as me dating a girl. Dani’s been crisis managing all night, I would guess. Online media is blazing, fandom has gone into meltdown. Her message was short and to the point.’ Chris tried to laugh but it seemed to come out wrong.

‘Hey,’ Trip reached for him. ‘We knew this was gonna happen.’

‘Yeh, we did. The control freak in me wants to be back in LA to see it and fight it myself. I want to be the one to talk about it...’

‘What did Dani say? Should you stay here or go back?’ Trip had a feeling he knew Dani’s instinct and experience wouldn’t chime with Chris’ impatience to counter the stories.

‘She said it’s the best thing for us to stay here. She has it all under control. She’s great in a crisis.’ Chris ran his fingers anxiously through his hair. He seemed more agitated than Trip had ever seen him.

‘It’s OK. She’s got this, Chris. You can trust her. It’s what she does and she’s good at it. Don’t go thinking she needs you to come storming back and throw a spanner in the works.’ Trip was gently rubbing his hand up and down the length of Chris’ spine as he sat hunched on the edge of the bed.

‘I know, I know. It’s just difficult to think it’s all gonna go down without me. She’s probably right, it’s probably the best way. She can play her part and do what we agreed, I won’t even be quoted as saying anything and by the time we get back, it’ll all have settled down a bit.’ Chris straightened up a little and turned.

‘How are you with all this? I mean, Jeez, here am I going on about my place in this and it’s your life that’s being laid bare here. Are you alright, Trip?’

Trip considered for a moment.

‘Well, I’m in bed with a man I adore, who is, incidentally, gorgeous. Oh, and a star of screens big and small, into the bargain. I’m on vacation in an awesome house with a fantastic fire and shower and we’re about to have pancakes for breakfast. Does it actually get any better?’

Chris rolled back and fell into Trip’s arms, smiling.

‘You’re right. Fuck ‘em. Let everyone spin their stupid stories and think whatever the hell they like. I know what’s real and what’s true. You know what’s real and true and that’s all that matters. I love you and I want to be with you and if you want to be with me too then it’s all cool. Let’s enjoy our vacation.’

Trip leaned down and kissed Chris clumsily on the lips.

‘You want those pancakes in bed or at the table?’

‘Oh, at the table, I think. Vacation is no excuse to get sloppy!’

Trip rolled inelegantly out of the far side of the bed and wrapped his robe round him, tying the cord tightly around his waist. He paused in the doorway, looking back.

‘Coffee?’

Chris nodded vigorously as he sat up and reached for his phone.

‘Don’t call her, Chris.’ Trip almost pleaded, knowing that it would be all the more difficult to keep away if Chris spoke to Dani.

‘I wasn’t going to. I was just gonna drop her a text to say we’re cool and she can deal with it all.’

‘OK. That’s good. I’ll make coffee.’

‘And pancakes!’

‘And pancakes.’

‘With syrup?’

‘With syrup.’


	46. Chapter 46

Part Forty-Six

After a breakfast that set them up for the day, Trip and Chris finished washing up and putting everything away and decided on a leisurely stroll down the road, perhaps even as far as Lizzie’s store.

‘Looks cold out there, better wrap up warm.’ Trip observed, peering out of the slatted kitchen window.

Chris’ voice rang out clear and high from the bedroom ‘...baby, it’s cooooold outside!’ he broke off in a giggle. It had been a while...

Trip entered the room and pulled a warm sweater out of the closet. ‘You bring gloves? I think we’re gonna need ‘em.’

‘No, I didn’t think it’d be this cold.’ Chris shook his head. ‘I can always put my hands in your pockets.’ He grinned and caught Trip in a bear hug. ‘You are so snuggly in that sweater!’ he exclaimed over Trip’s shoulder.

‘Thanks. I think.’ Trip released himself with a kiss to Chris’ cheek. ‘C’mon, I wanna go exploring!’

They both donned warm woollen coats; Chris’ black and Trip’s charcoal grey, buttoned them up and threw two of Chris’ mostly decorative scarves round their necks. Then Trip picked up the key and ushered Chris out the door before locking it securely behind them.

It was bitterly cold with a wind which whipped at their faces like icy twigs. Trip’s eyes began to water and Chris’ cheeks and nose took on a delightful rosy glow.

‘Does going on this walk mean we earn hot chocolate and cake when we get there?’ Chris muttered through clenched teeth.

‘Yes. It’s not so bad, you just gotta keep moving.’ Trip was doing just that; striding out, his arms swinging.

Chris ran to catch up, gasping ‘Oh stop that! Come here!’ as he caught Trip’s hand and they fell in step.

The wind was making an eerie whispering sound in the treetops on either side of the road. It was uncanny to hear no traffic, no sirens or blaring horns, to see no people and only one other house a few hundred yards ahead of them and set well back from the road. The air, despite being bitterly cold, felt fresh and good to them both as they breathed it in, exhaling clouds of steam.

After fifteen minutes of brisk walking, they sighted Lizzie’s store through the trees. Chris’ teeth were chattering and he began to jog just a little as they approached.

‘Hey, we have to get back again, don’t forget!’ Trip called after him.

‘Yes but then I’ll be full of hot chocolate and looking forward to spending the rest of the day lolling in front of the fire!’ Chris returned over his shoulder.

He reached the gate and flung it open, waving to Lizzie through the front window. She opened the door for him as he stepped onto the porch.

‘Good morning, Chris. On your own today?’ She ushered him into the cozy warmth.

‘No, Trip’s just coming.’ Chris held the door open as Trip caught up and hurried down the path.

‘Hey!’ He breathed in greeting as he closed the door behind him and saw Lizzie behind Chris.

‘Hey yourself!’ Lizzie grinned. ‘I get the feeling you boys could use a hot drink.’

‘Yes, please! I’ll have a hot chocolate... and did you mention cake before?’ Chris looked expectantly up through his eyelashes at her.

‘Of course! Chocolate cake, lemon drizzle, Victoria sponge or warm shortbread?’

‘Yes. That sounds fine!’ Chris nodded eagerly. ‘Um, Victoria Sponge please. I don’t want to overdose on chocolate.’

‘Not possible, sweetie.’ Lizzie smiled ‘Trip? Chocolate for you? Had you down as a coffee man.’

‘Yes, you’re right. Black coffee for me, please.’

‘Cake? No, I think you’ll go for the shortbread.’ She appraised him thoughtfully.

‘I was going to go for the shortbread, especially if it’s warm.’ Trip was pleasantly surprised. 

‘OK, have a seat.’ She gestured into the cafe side of the store and vanished into the back room. 

Trip and Chris took a table by the window where they could look out at the trees that surrounded them and at the road in front. As they warmed up and their fingers began to tingle, they both fell to thinking about Dani’s message that morning. 

‘What d’you think the producers will think?’ Trip ventured. The thought had been niggling at him all morning. It was all very well Chris and he feeling peachy about everything, but Chris was still part-way through a contractual obligation here. The impact that the day’s revelations might have on the release of the movie could be catastrophic.

‘I’m sure they’ll let me know. Still, all publicity is good publicity and I don’t work for people who are assholeish enough to take any notice of a few trashy rags. That reminds me...’ He suddenly got up out of his seat and went to the door leading to Lizzie’s kitchen.

‘Uh, Lizzie?’ he leaned round the side of the door till he could see her in the corner placing mugs and a coffee pot on a tray.

‘Yes, sweetheart?’ she looked up

‘D’you get any papers delivered here?’ Chris tried to keep his enquiry as natural as possible.

‘Most days, yes. Didn’t get them today, didn’t arrive. Maybe it’s too cold for the truck.’ Lizzie continued her task by selecting a huge slice of cake from a plate that had been hidden beneath a net umbrella. Finally she opened the oven and, using tongs, took out a slab of shortbread.

A waft of warm, sweet baking hit Chris’ nose and he almost forgot what he’d been asking about.

‘God, that smells delicious. D’you make all these yourself?’

‘Yep. Me or ‘Chelle. That’s my partner.’ Lizzie picked up the tray and Chris returned to his seat as she placed the tray down in front of them.

‘No newspapers today.’ Chris told Trip as Lizzie unloaded the tray.

‘Sorry guys. It’s a bit erratic up here. Still, you’re on vacation! You don’t need to know what’s going on in the real world. Make the most of the isolation.’ She stood up, the empty tray hanging by her side and caught Chris’ eye. Something indefinable passed between them, Chris wasn’t certain what it was but he had a sudden feeling that Lizzie wasn’t entirely on the level. He watched her back as she returned to the kitchen.

Trying to push the feeling away, he turned his attention to the mug of hot chocolate in front of him.

‘This shortbread is fabulous.’ Trip said, licking his finger and dabbing crumbs up off the edge of the plate. ‘She make this?’ 

‘Yep, she and her partner. Chelle.’ Chris confirmed.

Trip raised an eyebrow.

‘What?’ Chris challenged.

‘Nothing.’

‘You thinking business partner or partner partner?’ Chris asked, his mouth full of cake.

‘I’m thinking partner partner.’ Trip replied. ‘For sure.’

‘Yeah, me too. Coupla backwoodsy, baking dykes.’

Trip spluttered ‘Is that some kind of a new stereotype? Baking dykes?!’

‘Yep. Backwoodsy baking dykes. You wouldn’t wanna be without one or two of ‘em up here in the winter.’ Chris grinned. ‘Eminently practical.’

Trip smiled into his coffee.

‘I think the papers did arrive. I think she’s watching out for us, y’know.’ Chris fixed his eyes onto Trip’s.

‘What makes you think that?’

‘I dunno. Just a feeling.’ Chris shrugged. ‘She doesn’t want our vacation spoiled.’

‘How does she know who we are?’ Trip realised it was an idiotic question the second it had left his lips. 

Chris cast him a look.

‘I’m a little bit well-known’ was all he said before polishing off the last of his cake.

***


	47. Chapter 47

Part Forty-Seven

Though he put up an exceptionally good front, Chris was anxious to speak to Dani and get the full story on what had been said in the press. As he’d left his laptop at home and the signal in the area wasn’t that great for internet on his phone, he resolved not to go hunting online. Doing that often brought up way more information that was necessary. Dani would put a clearer perspective on everything.

Before they left, Trip suggested they see if Lizzie sold gloves in her store. Sure enough, she went out back and returned with two pairs of knitted black gloves with leather palms.

‘Perfect.’ Chris said, turning his hands over.

‘I’ll start you a tab if you like. Take a credit card swipe and charge you when you leave?’ Lizzie suggested.

‘Sounds like a plan.’ Chris nodded and turned to Trip. ‘Hey, wanna eat here tomorrow?’

‘Sure, that’d be great.’ Trip replaced the ceramic statuette of a woodcutter on the dresser.

‘Just don’t ask.’ Lizzie rolled her eyes heavenward. ‘People seem to love them. Come on vacation to the woods and buy tacky china, huh?’

Trip grinned. ‘But I was just going to ask how much it was...’

Lizzie looked like she was about to believe him for a second before she cuffed him on the arm, grinning.

They sorted out the tab arrangements and, donning their new gloves, stepped back out into the cold.

‘Don’t forget, there’s more wood round the back in the shed. Watch for spiders!’ Lizzie called after them.

***

Trip switched the heating back on once they had closed the front door and Chris immediately shut himself in the bedroom to call Dani.

Trip set about clearing the ashes from the previous night’s fire and laying a new one. One that would light straight away, he smiled smugly to himself. Putting his new gloves back on, he went outside and walked round the side of the house to search for the shed. What he found was a ramshackle building constructed from what looked like salvaged bricks and an old wooden window-frame. Inside, there was a huge stack of neatly cut and graded logs next to a rusting rotary lawnmower. Trip filled his arms with a selection of logs. There was still plenty of wood in the stack by the fireplace but it wouldn’t do any harm to bring some in to dry out a bit. Having checked cautiously for spiders, more because he didn’t want to cremate any than for any kind of fear, he carried the armful into the house.

Chris was still in the bedroom, the door closed. His voice an occasional low murmur, too soft to make out even the tone of the conversation, let alone the words.

Trip sighed. Maybe they had both been a bit blasé about it all. Maybe they should have been a bit more canny. Or a bit more careful. Maybe this would end their relationship. Maybe this would end Chris’ acting career...? Trip felt himself starting to panic again so he deliberately slowed his breathing and began to stack the logs by the fireplace. Then he slowly and methodically built a new tower of wood, kindling and small twigs at the heart, progressing to bigger sticks on the outside. He kept the real logs well out of the way till the rest was nicely established. The task calmed him a little.

Chris still wasn’t out of the bedroom by the time the fire was built and lit and two or three logs were already on the blaze, starting to catch light.

Trip idly got up and went over to the fridge. He opened the door and gazed in, looking for something to take his mind off whatever was being discussed behind the closed door. Grabbing an apple from the crisper at the bottom, he swung the door closed as Chris opened the bedroom door, his BlackBerry still pressed to his ear.

‘...yeah, he’s right here...he’s got his mouth full, though...’ Chris grinned at Trip as he listened to the response ‘...NO! That’s not what I meant! He’s eating an apple! Jeez, you have a filthy mind!’

He held out the handset 

‘It’s Dani, she wants to talk to you.’

‘Oh, right. Are you OK?’

Chris nodded as he shoved the phone at Trip ‘C’mon, it’s my bill!’

Trip took the phone ‘Hi, Dani...’

‘Trip! How’s the vacay? Chris tells me the house is to die for! You having fun?’

‘Uh, yeah. Thanks. What’s going on?’ Trip was somewhat thrown by her breezy manner.

‘Well, you’ve just become about the most famous stuntman since Evel Knievel, that’s for sure...’

‘Cut to the chase, Dani. How bad is it? I’m worried.’ Trip maintained his solemn manner. He really didn’t feel like being upbeat right now.

‘Trip, it’s OK, don’t worry. We got wide coverage in the press and broadcast media, not to mention online. Three trashy tabloids, plus a few of the UK papers did exactly what we predicted they would and twisted things, y’know, did the whole ‘tranny’ thing, got it all ass-end backwards. The quality press called me before running anything so it’s all good there, they got the great photos of that snog as a reward... Trip, you there?’

‘Yeah, I’m here. Go on.’

‘Sorry, I don’t mean to sound dismissive, I’m in journalist mode, you’re just a story right now, I apologise if I sound disrespectful...’

‘No, it’s fine, I understand...’ Trip was holding Chris’ phone in a death grip.

‘The worst thing from the numbers point of view is that Chris’ fanbase instantly went into major meltdown and pretty much jammed the social networks. All the fangirls, and boys, for that matter, saw their hopes and dreams come crashing down as soon as news hit that he had a boyfriend. That wasn’t pretty, but from my point of view that would’ve happened whoever he was with. Trip, it’s all fine, really. The flavor of the reports is very positive now, really countering the tabloid misinformation. I don’t think I’ve seen such a positive outcome from such potentially tricky material since... Clinton?’

Trip let out a laugh.

‘Really? They done the Chaz Bono comparison yet?’

‘Oh, hours ago! Chaz did you guys a lot of favors, whatever you may think.’

‘So you don’t think it’s gonna wreck Chris’ career, then?’ Trip ventured cautiously.

‘What? No! God, is that what you’re worried about? No! He’s getting so much publicity. They’re mentioning the film every two minutes, the studio’s loving it! Thing is, Trip, Chris laid a really great foundation from the start; he’s universally adored as a nice kid. Everyone’s granny loves that little gay dude with the girl’s voice. Most of the fans are just flailing at the thought that he’s getting some and the fact that you are who and what you are fits right in with that whole ‘Born This Way’ vibe he has going on...’

Trip, though a little surprised by the frank way in which Dani spoke about her client, was reassured that she did know exactly what she was talking about. He realised that such a long association with Chris had given her an acute and detailed understanding of his image and perception by both the media and the public. With her talent for spin, Chris really couldn’t put a foot wrong.

‘But enough about Mr Wonderful, how are you dealing with this?’

‘I’m OK. I’m more worried about Chris. I can always fade back into stunt-double obscurity.’ Trip didn’t even want to think about whether that would be an option. He had a funny feeling that ‘obscurity’ was never going to come easily again.

‘Oh please! You don’t get to be the first person to publicly date that one and expect obscurity ever again, do you?’ Dani was scathing.

‘No, I suppose not. Just... just... if my parents get in touch, let me know, yeah?’

Dani’s voice softened as she replied 

‘Sure, Trip, of course.’

‘Do we need to come back to L.A?’ Trip asked, his heart sinking a little at the thought.

‘No. I definitely think you should stay put. I don’t want him adding any more fuel to the flames. That clever mouth of his will talk this into a bigger issue than it already is. We need to save that for when interest is waning. Which should be just at the same time as the film premieres. Clever, eh? He’s allowed to be on vacation and unavailable for comment, as are you. Oh, and stay off the social networks, huh?’

‘OK. Did you tell him?’

‘I tried. I think he’s more likely to listen to you. Or you could just keep him busy...’ 

Dani’s voice returned once more to the light-hearted tones of earlier, a suggestive undertone making Trip blush as he wondered what Chris had told her.

‘OK, I’ll do that.’ Trip tried to smile.

‘Good. Oh, and Trip...? Don’t worry. I’ve got this, it’s all going to be just fine. Just be good to him, he deserves someone like you, you two are great together. He adores you, you know? Don’t fuck with that. I’ll kill you.’

‘You’re not the first woman to have said that to me, oddly enough. And I won’t. He means too much to me.’

‘Good. Now, go have loud sex or something, I’ve got work to do. Bye!’

She rang off before Trip had even quite registered the remark.

***


	48. Chapter 48

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW because sex, honey and chocolate.

Part Forty-Eight

 

‘So, Dani seems to think there’s no problem at all. Shall we get on with having a vacation?’ Trip handed the phone back to Chris with a wry grin.

‘Told you it was all fine.’ Chris’ face had a brightness that had been missing that morning. He’d topped up his sense of control merely by reassuring himself that Dani had everything in hand.

‘So what d’you wanna do now?’

‘Promise you won’t think I’m crazy?’ Chris looked utterly crazy and as if he was about to explode.

‘You know I can’t promise that.’ Trip deadpanned.

Chris plowed on, ignoring the remark ‘I want to toast bread at the open fire on a stick, and then I want to toast marshmallows and then toast pretty much everything else we can find. But all on a stick! At the open fire!’ Chris broke off, breathless.

‘You’re crazy. But OK. I actually saw a toasting fork on the shelf in the pantry, believe it or not.’ Trip opened the door and leant down to retrieve the fork. He turned back and brandished it at Chris.

‘Ta Daaa!’

‘Fantastic! I kinda had my heart set on a stick but, hey. Now, bread, butter... what else can we toast? Did we bring marshmallows?’

‘No, ‘fraid not.’ Trip wished he’d thought of it.

‘Oh well, how about those strawberries?’

‘You can’t toast strawberries!’ Trip exclaimed.

‘Maybe not, but you can melt chocolate and dip them!’ Chris replied.

‘OK, so our lunch event today will comprise toast and butter, followed by out of season strawberries in melted chocolate?’ Trip raised an eyebrow.

‘Most of the major food groups in there: fruit, carbs, dairy and chocolate. Lovely!’

They amassed their bizarre meal and once more settled in front of the fire, which by now, was crackling happily.

Chris fixed a slice of bread rather unsteadily onto the toasting fork and held it out towards the flames.

‘I feel like a Boy Scout.’ He smiled.  
‘Yeah? I’m not good enough now, huh? You want something a bit younger?’ Trip let out a dirty chuckle.

‘Ugh! You’re vile.’ Chris shot back, keeping his eyes on the toast.

Trip busied himself melting chocolate in the microwave, taking care not to overheat it.

‘Chris, you want anything else to spread on that toast? There’s some things in the cupboard here.’ Trip browsed as he waited for the microwave to ping.

‘What is there?’ Chris wasn’t taking his eyes off the toast, checking it every few seconds.

‘Peanut butter, jelly, honey...’ Trip craned to see behind the jars.

‘Honey! Yes, honey on buttered toast. That works.’ Chris was emphatic.

Trip stacked the melted chocolate, the washed fruit, a couple of plates and the honey jar and carried them over to what was rapidly becoming a picnic on the rug in front of the fire.

Chris was in the process of turning the slice of toast over to heat the other side. He blew on his fingers as he did so.

‘Ow! Ouch, that’s hot!’ 

‘And you expected what... exactly?’ Trip was heavily sarcastic.

‘Watch it, I’m armed with a toasting fork!’

Trip sniggered as he began to lay out the food on plates on the rug.

Soon they had quite a production line going. Chris worked out exactly how long it took to toast each side of the bread and exactly how close to the flames he could hold it before it actually ignited; Trip buttered and spread honey on each slice as Chris shook it off the fork onto a plate. Every few slices they would take a break to dip strawberries into the chocolate which they kept molten by standing the bowl on top of the fireplace.

Things began to get very sticky. Then, when Trip accidentally put the lid of the honey jar down the wrong way up, they began to get a little fluffy. Then Chris dropped a slice of toast he was eating and, inevitably, it landed butter-side-down.

‘Shit!’ Chris burst out, giggling. ‘We are making such a mess!’

‘But it’s a delicious mess!’ Trip laughed in return. ‘Wanna finish off this chocolate?’

‘No more strawberries?’ Chris pouted. 

Trip shook his head. ‘Nope, all gone.’

‘Aww. I’ll just have to use my fingers!’ and he began to do just that, dipping his fingers into the remaining chocolate and sucking them with a hooded glance up at Trip as he did so.

‘You know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?’ Trip tried not to gaze at those fingers as they disappeared between Chris’ lips.

‘Want some?’ Chris licked his lips and held the bowl out.

A ridiculous cliché like that should not be so hot, Trip thought to himself.

But it was. It absolutely was. 

He found himself licking his own fingers and running them round the edge of the bowl, clearing a path through the chocolate before slowly and deliberately placing his fingers in his mouth as he gazed across at Chris.

‘God.’ Was all Chris could say, his chest visibly rising and falling as his breathing sped up.

Trip concentrated on the bowl now he knew he had Chris’ full attention, two and three fingers wiping the last remains of chocolate and messily transferring it to his tongue.

Chris couldn’t help it; he was thoroughly transfixed by the sight of Trip’s mouth, moist and chocolatey, his fingers slipping wetly between his lips. He shuffled closer and dipped a finger into the pot of honey, licking the drips as he raised his hand to Trip’s mouth. Trip obligingly sucked at the proffered finger as his eyes locked with Chris’, dark and wide with desire.

Chris caught his breath as he felt his finger being sucked into the wet warmth, the most delicious sounds emanating from the sides of Trip’s mouth. He groaned as he pulled his finger out and mashed his lips against Trip’s, tasting the sweetness and relishing the slippery wetness as their tongues collided and their breath gasped raggedly between them.

‘Oh, fuck, I want you’ Chris moaned out between their lips’ messy slurping. He’d gotten hard almost the second he saw Trip’s fingers disappear into his mouth and when he’d slipped his own fingers in, it echoed what he wanted to do more than anything else right at this moment.

‘Trip, let me fuck you, I wanna make love to you, please! Now, right here. I want you so badly...’

Trip pulled back, his sticky fingers knocking a plate as he reached out to steady himself.

‘Y- yeah. OK, yes.’ Trip was suddenly gripped with the habitual fear and he tried desperately to cover it. ‘Shall I go and get...?’

‘No, I’ll get them, you get comfortable.’ Chris almost shot off the mat and headed towards the bedroom in search of a condom and lube. 

Trip shovelled the detritus from lunch as far away from the sofa as possible and then began to take off his sweater and jeans. Chris returned as he was unbuttoning his shirt.

‘Let me.’ Chris knelt down in front of him and slowly undid the tiny buttons, pushing the fabric aside when he was done, rubbing his hands over Trip’s chest, securely restrained in his singlet-style compression shirt. Trip leaned back against the sofa as Chris straddled his thighs and kissed him, both hands cradling Trip’s face as he did so, messy and sweet and utterly unrestrained.

Trip was torn between an acute awareness of his own body and a fervent desire for Chris’. He could feel the rough denim of Chris’ jeans grinding over his briefs and it made him horribly conscious of his sex; the fact that no amount of men’s underwear could disguise what lay within: his tiny, testosterone-boosted dick and the swollen, wet place that lay behind it. 

Chris wasn’t stopping though, he ground down hard and Trip bucked up towards him, suddenly relishing the pressure and moaning aloud. Trip tore urgently at Chris’ clothes, pulling them up and away over his head as Chris pulled back for a moment only and then resumed kissing him, grinding into his crotch harder still.

‘Oh God, Chris, oh God!’ Trip could feel his orgasm building already. The tops of his thighs tingling, his cunt burning treacherously, the whole of his insides beginning to melt into fiery liquidity.

‘Turn over.’ Chris commanded, swinging his leg off Trip and grasping his hips to lift him right off the floor. Trip struggled to steady his knees as he leant his upper body on the seat of the sofa, his ass in the air.

‘Yes, that’s what I want.’ Chris smoothed his hand over Trip’s taut ass and grasped it firmly. Trip uttered a strangled moan and buried his face in the cushions. This was, surprisingly, so much better than he’d imagined.

‘You OK?’ Chris asked as he rose to his feet and shed his jeans and underwear in one deft move. He worried for a moment that he was being a bit too dominant, too rough, he didn’t want to raise any bad memories for Trip but, oh God, he wanted to fuck him so badly!

Trip raised his head ‘You have no idea how OK I am.’ He mumbled, his voice sounding exceptionally deep and gravelly to him.

Chris was close to euphoric at this and knelt down close, using both hands to shape Trip’s body from the sides of his chest to the tight obliques, the hips and then hooking into the elastic waistband and dispatching Trip’s underwear. Trip wriggled his lower legs free and moved a hand beneath him to both touch and protect his most sensitive place.

‘Your ass is perfect, Trip, you know that?’ Chris was practically worshipping it with his hands and his eyes, running his thumbs down the cleft from the very shallow dip at the base of Trip’s spine to grasp at the cheeks and pull them gently apart. He leaned down and pressed kisses where his thumbs had traced, licking back along the center, stopping just shy of Trip’s asshole. Licking a finger, Chris traced along again and rubbed gently against it, hearing Trip cry out with pleasure. Tentatively he slipped the very tip of his finger inside the tight ring and watched as Trip’s head jerked up.

‘Is that OK? You ready for that?’ Chris breathed, hoping Trip didn’t answer in the negative as he wasn’t planning to stop anytime soon.

‘Ye-e-ssss...’ Trip hissed out, thrusting back against Chris’ finger.

Chris reached for the bottle of lube as he withdrew his hand. As soon as his fingers were slick, he very slowly rubbed the middle one back round Trip’s asshole before crooking it and slipping it in. Keeping up the gentle pressure he pressed in farther, pulling back every so often. Trip was keening softly into the cushion, trying to relax, to resist his body’s every urge to tense up.

‘Ready for another?’ Chris asked softly.

Trip nodded against the seat. ‘Mmmm-mmn’

Chris pulled almost all the way out and slipped another finger alongside the first, adjusting the angle slightly.

‘You are so tight, you feel incredible.’ He breathed, pressing in and scissoring the fingers slightly, making Trip catch his breath audibly. ‘Just relax, babe, I’ve got you.’

Trip groaned at the sound of those words, his neck arching up again.

Chris pushed in tight, pumping slowly as he felt Trip tighten against him.

‘You gotta relax, sweetie, bear down just a little, I don’t wanna hurt you.’ 

Trip did as he was told and took a deep breath. Chris swiftly withdrew and slid three fingers deep inside, so turned on by the tightness and the cry that Trip let out as he did so.

‘Ohhh, GOD!’ 

Trip was rocking against his fingers so Chris matched his pace and pumped deep into the slick heat, delighting in the noises he was drawing from Trip, alternately muffled by the sofa and resounding around the room as he arched upwards.

Although he was aware that Trip’s right hand was working frantically between his legs, Chris had no doubt of the effect his actions were having as suddenly, with a guttural shout, Trip’s body froze before jerking rhythmically back against his fingers. Chris held his breath as he felt his fingers being gripped and released with a power which was almost overwhelming. He was suddenly desperate to feel that with more than just his fingers...

Waiting for what must have been seconds only, Chris slid his fingers out of Trip, fumbled for the condom packet he’d dropped on the rug. As he rolled it on, he glanced at Trip’s head, pillowed on the sofa seat.

‘Trip? Can I...? Are you OK if I...’ He could barely speak! He had a momentary flash of the extremes that this intensity of desire might drive a man to...

‘Yes, please! Oh God, Chris, I wanna come again with you inside me!’ His voice was hoarse and unbearably sexy. Chris could hardly manipulate the lube bottle to anoint himself and slip his finger along Trip’s ass and over his still-open hole. With a mindless need that a part of himself found shameful, he grasped Trip’s buttocks and knelt close enough to position the tip of his cock against the entrance.

‘Ready?’

‘Yeah... oh, yeah...ohhhh....’

Trip’s moan cut short as he felt Chris’ cock graze past the resistance and begin to thrust deeper into him, slow and strong and so hard! His insides were truly melting, the tension of earlier was dissipating, he was turning into honey, into molten chocolate and Chris’ cock was rigid and insistent, right at his core. He felt himself dissolving into pure sensation as Chris’ cock filled him totally and began to move more quickly.

Chris couldn’t believe how good it felt to be totally surrounded by Trip, completely inside him, filling him and feeling him move. The pressure was so intense that Chris didn’t think he could hold back for much longer, his thighs and balls were beginning to tighten up and he felt ready to explode. Almost by instinct, he continued to thrust, holding tight to Trip’s hips, steadying him against the insistent movement, digging his fingers in without realising what he was doing. He glanced up towards Trip’s head and saw him bracing his arms against the back of the sofa, his head up and his muscled shoulders looking awesomely defined and tensed. He felt himself tighten up his own stomach and buttocks as he pounded harder into Trip, gritting his teeth and arching his neck back, groaning at the ceiling as he felt his orgasm building.

‘Oh, God, Trip, I’m gonna... I’m gonna....’

‘Oh fuck YES!’

Trip was suddenly shuddering and sobbing and Chris felt his cock engulfed in the most extraordinary waves of pressure as he finally let go and came with an undignified wail; aware only of his cock and his balls and the incredibly powerful surges of pleasure making him continue to thrust deep into Trip.  
Moments passed and Chris wondered if he’d blanked out temporarily, for when he opened his eyes, Trip’s body lay inert beneath him, half-sitting back into Chris’ lap and Chris’ cock was beginning to slip out.

He stroked Trip’s back:

‘Hey, you OK?’

No response.

‘Trip?’ He reached forward and stroked the hair at the nape of Trip’s neck, briefly wondering if he should check for a pulse when a muffled moan came from the cushions.

‘Fuuuuck.’

Chris gently eased his softening cock out of Trip and laughed, discarding the condom somewhere off the edge of the rug.

‘You OK?’ he repeated.

Trip took a labored breath, heaving himself up off the sofa.

‘Fuuuuck.’ He repeated thickly.

‘C’mere’ Chris moved next to the sofa and lifted Trip’s shoulders, turning him to face him. Trip slid heavily to sit on the floor and instantly knelt up again.

‘Ow!’

‘Oh, babe, I’m so sorry. I was a bit over-enthusiastic, wasn’t I?’ Chris held Trip close, half-laughing into his neck. Trip’s arms circled his back, hands clutching at the skin and Chris realised with alarm that Trip was sobbing.

‘Hey! It’s OK, it’s OK...’ Chris just held him, stroking his back and murmuring against his hair, his neck, nuzzling his ear.

He didn’t know what to think. Had he hurt Trip more than he’d imagined? Had he triggered some memory of the attack? What was going on? He swallowed hard, finding himself becoming upset and confused, unsure of what to do.

Trip pulled away, his breath hitching, his eyes red. He wiped his face swiftly with one hand and looked at Chris.

‘I’m sorry. I don’t know where that came from... I just... you’re just... That was incredible. I can’t begin to tell you how that felt... what that meant to me...’

‘I can’t begin to tell you how incredible that was for me, too.’ Chris replied, lifting Trip’s chin with a finger. ‘I guess we’ll have to do it a whole lot more to try and communicate just exactly how wonderful it feels for each of us.’  
Trip nodded, smiling again. ‘Thank you.’

‘Thank you. You are amazing. You look and feel amazing and I adore you.’ Chris sat back and Trip realised that he’d been perched on his heels, naked from the waist down, for several minutes now, in full view of Chris. Instinctively he covered himself with his hands. Chris very gently moved them away.

‘It’s OK.’ He leaned forward and kissed Trip softly. ‘Now, let’s get you comfortable. I’m gonna go get your robe. Find somewhere to sit that’s not too sore. I’m really sorry. But you felt so good...’

‘Don’t be sorry. It’s fine. It’s more than fine. Go.’ 

Chris stood and Trip watched, dazed and awed, as he headed back to the bedroom.

He looked at the wreckage on the rug and smiled. 

Who knew you could cram so much into the first day of a vacation?

***


	49. Chapter 49

Part Forty-Nine

 

After the first couple of emotionally and physically intense days of their vacation, Chris and Trip fell into a relaxed and easy routine. They got up late, filled the day with walking, listening to music, making love in as many and varied ways as they could think of, watching dvds, preparing increasingly elaborate meals and visiting Lizzie and Chelle at the store for dinner or just a chat. Part-way through their break, Trip asked Lizzie about the mysterious non-appearance of the newspapers. She looked a little shifty before admitting that she’d decided not to put them on the dresser as she usually did for fear that one of the locals would recognise Chris or Trip from the front page photos and ask awkward questions.

‘I figured you chaps could use a break.’ She shrugged.

‘That was really thoughtful of you.’ Trip replied.

‘Not the first time I’ve done it. We have a few celebrities come up here. I suppose I feel a responsibility to ensure they are able to have a vacation like anyone else. I just thought yours was a particularly unique and sensitive situation...’

Trip nodded his thanks once again. There really were some remarkable people in the world. Often in the most unlikely places.

***

The final morning of their stay arrived and both were endeavouring to stuff their crumpled and well-worn clothes back into their travel bags. The weather had warmed up a little over the week but the rain had persisted, resulting in clothes that had been hastily laundered and dried but not ironed. It didn’t seem to matter up here where they barely saw anyone from one day to the next.

‘Should we clean the place? Or wash the linen?’ Trip suddenly wondered as they carried the bags to the door.

‘Left that one a bit late! No, Lizzie said she’d take care of it all. Part of the arrangement, I think.’ Chris looked doubtfully at a pair of boots which were caked in mud and stained with wet tidemarks. ‘I think I’ll put these in first.’

‘It’s been a great vacation, Chris.’ Trip said, pulling Chris, boots and all, into his arms.

‘It has. The best. Kind of how I dreamed going away with my lover would be.’

Trip’s heart flipped over. He loved how that still happened. He loved that they had grown so comfortable with each other so quickly, living in close proximity. Once there was nothing to hide, little stood in the way of them exploring each others’ bodies and pleasures. Trip was almost puzzled by how scared he had been for the whole of his life that he would never share intimacy with anyone, let alone anyone like Chris. Part of him wanted to stay in the woods forever, worried that the return to L.A and facing the glare of publicity head-on would change things.

But return they must. The movie Chris had spent the summer working on was due for release in a week’s time and they had planned to attend the premiere together: their first public event as a couple. Chris had spoken to Dani and the film’s producers, all of whom seemed to think it was a great idea for Chris and Trip to be seen in public together. Dani had said there had been something of a Christian backlash on the internet and talk of a demonstration at the premiere, but much worse things had happened and no-one seemed overly concerned. Trip was starting to feel closer to ‘normal’ than he’d felt for an awfully long time.

After packing up the car, saying heartfelt goodbyes to Lizzie and Chelle, taking pictures and promising to keep in touch, Chris and Trip finally hit the road. The rain had stopped and by mid morning the sun was shining. By late afternoon, as they arrived back in the city, it was warm again and it seemed hard to believe that just over a week previously they had been driving through sleet and buying new gloves.

‘Want me to drop you off?’ Chris asked as they pulled off the freeway.

‘Yeah, I guess so. What are you gonna do?’ 

‘Oh, laundry, catch up on all the news, hide from the paps...’

‘Shit, yeah. I hadn’t thought of that. Are we gonna have to stay inside or what?’ 

Being in the middle of nowhere had lulled Trip into a false sense of normality. He was going to have to face the fact that he was currently a hot property and the public was insatiable in its desire for pictures and intimate details.

‘I’ll call Dani and see if she can arrange someone to stick with you.’ Chris once again showed his experience in dealing with such things.

‘I think I’m gonna get her to hire Boots from the studio for me, he was a nice guy.’ Chris pondered as he swung into a side street. ‘and no, you don’t have to stay in but expect to be hassled. I’m sorry, but there it is. You don’t have to say anything. It’s best if you just smile, then put your head down and just walk. They do get the hint eventually.’ 

Trip took a deep breath.

‘I hope I’m ready for this.’

‘You’ll be fine. Just get into your apartment when I drop you off and I’ll get Dani to sort something out. Maybe order in tonight.’ Chris seemed so practical and business-like that Trip felt a little bit dismissed, like the last week hadn’t happened, or had been entirely a figment of his imagination. He wasn’t looking forward to spending the evening alone, a prisoner in his own home.

Chris suddenly pulled the car over to the kerb and turned to face him.

‘I’m gonna say goodbye now so you can just leap out when I stop at your place. I really wish you had a garage or a back door or something.’

‘Yeah, kinda wasn’t an issue when I moved in, y’know?’ Trip bit his lip.

‘Let’s just get through the next couple of days, yeah?’

Trip nodded. Chris leaned over and put his arms round Trip, hugging him as close as their position in the car would allow. ‘I love you, Trip, it’s been an amazing vacation. I’ll call later tonight, OK?’ He pulled back and kissed Trip warmly on the lips, one hand sneaking up to the back of his head and pressing him in close.

As they broke apart, Trip said:

‘Can I get my things outta the back now? Saves time when we get there.’

‘Yeah, good idea. I’ll pop the trunk.’ Chris pressed the button and the trunk clunked open. Trip went round the back and gathered his bag and coat, resting them on his lap as he got back into his seat. He had the foresight to fish his keys out from the pocket of the bag and hold them tightly in his hand.

‘Ready?’ Chris asked

‘Ready.’

They pulled away from the kerb and continued towards the street where Trip’s building was. As they approached, they could see two or three people sitting disconsolately on the steps. At the sight and sound of the distinctive blue sports car, they leapt to their feet and began fixing lenses and snapping photos.

‘Bingo.’ Was all Chris said as he pulled up.

Trip swung his door open and stepped out, his way immediately blocked by several more photographers and possibly interviewers or even members of the public. He had no idea and just wanted to get inside his front door, away from the press of bodies. He was dimly aware that he’d slammed the car door behind him and that Chris had screeched rapidly away and up the street, pursued by several more people. 

‘’Scuse me... thanks... thank you...’ he found himself saying as he pushed ahead, using his bag as something of a battering ram in front of his legs. The cameras flashed in front of his eyes and voices yammered at him though he had little recollection of what they were saying. 

Suddenly a tall figure shouldered through the crowd and grasped his arm. He was about to cry out when he looked up and saw Marco’s familiar face and formidable barrel chest towering over him.

‘Coming through!’ he announced and almost propelled Trip up the steps, standing behind him as he put the key in the lock and turned it with shaking hands. Marco shoved him through the door and into the darkness within.

‘Oh God, thank you!’ Trip gasped out, dropping the bag with a thud.

‘No problem. I was waiting for you in the car down the street. Bev said you’d be back this afternoon.’ 

‘You’ve been sitting there all afternoon?’ Trip was incredulous.

‘Since about two. Hey, I figure if these guys can do it and call it work, then so can I.’ Marco grinned. Trip fell towards him and hugged him in relief. 

‘Thank you so, so much, Marco!’ He said again as he pulled back and looked up. ‘I guess you guys saw what’s been going on?’

‘Hard to miss it.’ Marco replied as they began to climb the stairs. 

‘Well, we managed to miss it all.’

‘Really? You didn’t see any of your finest hours at all?’ Marco was incredulous.

Trip smiled inwardly. Oh, he’d seen several of his finest hours in the last week or so but none of them had been in the press, thankfully...

‘Nope, nothing. We decided it might spoil our vacation. Was it fun?’

‘Well, Bev and I got staked out till we called the cops...’

‘Shit, I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘Not your fault.’ Marco returned.

They arrived at Trip’s apartment and Trip suggested Marco stop for a coffee. Marco shook his head.

‘Gotta get back, just wanted to make sure you were OK. You want me to sort out some muscle for you? I know a few guys.’

Trip shoulders relaxed a little, ‘Oh yes, that would be really good. Please.’

‘OK, you ever worked with Desi? Tattoos, bald?’ Marco asked.

‘I don’t think so.’ Trip scratched his head.

‘He’s in personal security now, I’ll give him a call for you. OK if I give him your cell number?’

‘Yeah, fine. Thanks, Marco.’  
‘Hey, Trip...?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Give Bev a call. She’s kinda worried about you.’

Trip nodded. ‘OK, will do. Tell her I gotta get my laundry done and then I’ll call.’

‘Good man. Did you guys enjoy your vacation?’

Trip thought back to the peace and quiet of the little village, the absence of worries and the incredible sex and smiled.

‘Yes, it was really nice, thanks. A good break.’

‘Cool. Speak t’you soon.’ Marco clapped Trip on the back, as he always did, practically knocking Trip over, as he always did, and headed towards the door. Letting himself out, he ambled down the stairs jumping the last few of each flight with a thunderous thud which Trip could hear all the way to the ground floor.

***


	50. Chapter 50

Part Fifty

Trip busied himself with laundry and unpacking; he discovered a microwave meal in the freezer which served as dinner and he called Bev, who was desperate for gossip and tried to fill Trip in on what had been revealed in his absence.

‘Really Bev, I don’t need to know all the details, I have an idea of what they said.’ Trip attempted to stop her.

‘But I thought you might need...’

‘No. I don’t need anything. I’m more certain of myself than I ever have been. What other people think just isn’t important. Or rather, what the press think...’ Trip was emphatic.

There was a pause on the line.

‘You sound so different, Trip. You seem so... grown up, so... together.’ Bev was hesitant but it was the only way she could describe it.

‘Yeh, I think you’re right. I finally feel I’m a man, no doubts, no worries, no fear of what other people think. Even if they know my story.’

‘That’s wonderful, Trip. You can’t imagine how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say something like that. I just never knew what to do to help.’

‘You have done so much, you and Marco! I couldn’t have asked for more. You have been... and still are... amazing. None of this would have been possible without you guys. C’mon, you know that.’ Trip realised suddenly that Bev probably felt a bit abandoned, unsure of her place in his life now that he had Chris and a much changed attitude. He hadn’t spoken to her for over a week, only sending one brief message to Marco to let them both know when he’d be back. That hadn’t happened for a long time. Usually he checked in every couple of days. Maybe he was finally growing up. 

‘Yes, but we care about you a lot, Trip. We’ve been through quite a lot together. Especially this year...’ 

Bev stopped. She really didn’t want to cover that ground again and she would never say it to Trip, but it had been something of a catalyst for the events which followed.

‘I couldn’t have done it without you, Bev. Now, let’s do coffee sometime. What’s your schedule looking like?’

They planned to meet up in a few days’ time and Trip felt that by the end of the call Bev was feeling more valued once again. It really was like a mother/son relationship, Trip reflected as he pulled damp clothes out of the washer. Once his affections were focussed elsewhere, she was bound to feel like this. He sighed. It had been so much easier in the woods with no contact, no-one else’s feelings to have to smooth over, no battles to fight. Just him, Chris and their simple needs.

Things were certainly going to be different.

He shovelled a load into the dryer and spent a brief amount of time on his laptop checking emails and studiously avoiding Googling himself or Chris before deciding to turn in for the night. Marco’s bodyguard friend Desi had called earlier in the evening and agreed to meet Trip early the following day for a chat. Trip thought he might just spend the next few days getting back into his gym routine. Having a guy who could both elbow paparazzi out of the way and spot him as he worked out seemed like a good combination. After a brief call to Chris, just to say goodnight and reassure himself that he’d got home OK, he felt relaxed and sleepy as he snuggled down in his own bed and switched off the light.

***

Shortly after 1am, Trip awoke to the sound of his cellphone buzzing on his bedside table. Middle-of-the-night calls weren’t usually good news and his heart began to pound as he flicked the light on and fumbled for his phone.

The call went to voicemail before he had a chance to answer it but he saw Chris’ name and photo on the screen and he became even more concerned as he speed-dialled and waited for Chris to pick up. The phone rang once before Chris’ voice came on the line.

‘Sorry, were you asleep?’

‘Uh, it’s one in the morning. Yes, I was asleep. Are you OK?’ Trip’s voice was croaky with sleep. Chris, on the other hand, sounded wide awake.

‘I miss you. I can’t sleep.’ Chris said.

Trip’s stomach coiled.

‘Oh, babe... I miss you, too. Want me to come over?’

‘Um. I’m kind of here. Can you let me in?’ Chris sounded abashed.

‘You’re here? What, outside?’ Trip couldn’t believe it, but he was thrilled.

‘Yeh. I parked a few streets away and walked but it’s all quiet out here. No overnight camping.’

Trip was stumbling towards the entryphone in the hallway.

‘C’mon up. You’re nuts!’ he chuckled, pressing the buzzer which released the lock.

He heard Chris over the speaker, pushing open the door and clicking it closed behind him and then Trip opened the front door of the apartment and waited for him to reach the top of the stairs. A few minutes later, Chris’ tousled head appeared over the banister and he hurried forward to hug Trip.

‘You are truly certifiable.’ Trip laughed delightedly as they cuddled their way into the apartment, shutting the door behind them.

‘C’mon into bed, you must be cold.’ Trip hurried back to his side, hoping it was still warm.

‘Not cold, just lonely.’ Chris sounded like a child as he shrugged off his clothes and snuggled in next to Trip. ‘Better now.’

Trip held him close and within minutes, Chris was fast asleep, breathing slow and deep. Trip kissed his forehead softly and whispered ‘I love you, you’re amazing.’ before closing his eyes and falling asleep a minute later.

***

The next morning, after coffee, Desi called round, informing both of them that the front step had once again been colonised with photographers and hangers-on. Chris and he sat at the bar as Trip stood in the kitchen and they discussed the plan for moving around. Chris chipped in some suggestions from his own experience and then, with a panicked look, dashed into the bedroom to call Boots. There would be no point in having the guy turn up at his apartment as arranged when Chris had done a runner in the middle of the night.

Desi was a man of few words but he seemed to understand the situation and looked fairly happy to spend time working out with his charge.

‘Personal training comes extra, y’know.’ He grinned into his coffee.

Trip looked over his ridiculously huge, tattooed arms.

‘I don’t think you need to do the training with me. I’m not sure I’d keep up.’

They reached an area of common ground as they chatted about weights and protein supplements and Desi’s brief time as a stuntman before Chris came back into the room.

‘Boots is gonna come get me in twenty minutes or so. He’s bringing a car. Want dropping off anywhere?’

Trip pondered for a moment.

‘There’s no real reason why I shouldn’t walk to the gym, is there? I mean, so long as we can shake off the parasites.’

Desi shook his head.

‘Lots of photos, stupid questions and jostling.’ Chris put in. ‘If you can stand that then, no. You’re entitled to go about your life. Oh, by the way, my PA wants to talk evening wear for the premiere.’  
Trip’s heart sank. Dressing up wasn’t exactly his forte and he felt distinctly uncomfortable at the thought of being fitted for a tuxedo in a swanky salon somewhere.

‘Uh, what do I have to do?’ he ventured.

‘Tell her your measurements and preferred designers and she’ll send some stuff round to try. It’ll be fun.’

It sounded more tolerable than Trip had imagined.

‘OK, can you help with the measurements, Chris? I’m not sure...’ 

Trip glanced at Desi who was studying the glittery countertop intently. Poor guy must have seen his fair share of Hollywood weirdness in his time but Trip felt like he was somehow wasting his time.

‘C’mon then, you. Gotta tape measure?’ Chris seemed to see no reason why they shouldn’t do this right now.

Trip rummaged around in the kitchen drawer until he found an old yellow tape measure he used to use to record the circumference of his biceps. As he led Chris into the bedroom, he glanced again at Desi’s arms and wondered how many times bigger they were than his own. Easily twice, maybe three times... Still, the guy was tall too...

Chris was fumbling around his waist.

‘Where d’you like your trousers?’ he was saying

‘Uh, on my legs?’ Trip suggested. Chris whacked him on the thigh.

‘No, where d’you like them to sit? Round your waist or hips or what?’ Chris went on. He’d done this enough times to know exactly the questions to ask and the measurements to take.

Eventually Chris had made a note of Trip’s statistics, observing that they weren’t so very different from his own and that Trip was welcome to try on one of his jackets but the trousers would probably need turning up a little. Trip loathed the thought of trying on evening wear and loathed even more the idea that everyone was going to be looking at him wearing it, taking photos, judging him...

‘Can’t I just wear jeans?’ He pouted, grumpily.

‘No, you cannot just wear jeans! You’re gonna be my date for the night and I want you to look fabulous.’ Chris was beginning to sound like something of a stereotype.

‘Now, Armani or Dior?’

‘Uh, Armani.’ Trip didn’t even hesitate.

Chris raised his eyebrows. ‘Mmm, pretty certain of that one, huh?’

‘It’s cheaper.’ Trip shot back with a look.

‘You’re not paying for this!’ Chris grinned.

‘Well you’re certainly not.’ Trip replied.

‘No, silly. They’ll give you the suit in return for the publicity. My PA says the big houses are falling over themselves to dress you!’

Trip gulped.

‘Oh.’

‘I’ll send her your details. Oop, that sounds like your door.’

They dashed out of the bedroom and Trip answered the entryphone, letting Boots in.

Once Chris had emailed Trip’s measurements, Trip had washed the coffee cups and gathered his workout gear and the two bodyguards had exchanged their nods and grunted greetings, everyone seemed ready to go. Chris was on his way to record a TV appearance to promote the film and Trip, finally, was going to get to the gym.

They decided to leave the building together, flanked by their muscled protectors, and then go their separate ways in opposite directions to split the crowd in two. Trip expected the majority to chase after Chris as he headed to Boots’ SUV.

In fact, as many photographers walked in front of Trip as he turned towards the gym as followed Chris. Trip tried to play it cool and look confident as Desi cleared a path for him with one tree-trunk-like arm.

‘That’s it guys.’ Desi said firmly as they hit about the hundred yard mark and cameras were still popping in front of Trip’s face. Amazingly, the crowd melted away and Trip found himself walking unencumbered once more. Several hurtful and inappropriate questions echoed in his ears as he tried deliberately to slow his breathing.

‘How can they think it’s OK to say that kind of stuff?’ he muttered, half to himself.

‘Animals.’ Was all that Desi replied.

‘Yeah. People are so nosey. I feel like I should apologise to you.’ He uttered a little laugh, still unused to the fact that Desi was working for him and whatever he thought was almost completely irrelevant.

‘S’my job.’ Desi replied. ‘’Sides, I got a lot of respect for you. I think you’re a pretty brave dude, doing all this in the public eye. Kudos to ya.’

Trip turned his head in surprise.

‘Thanks, Desi. I appreciate that.’

‘I’m not out to anyone I even work with...’ Desi spoke so quickly that Trip almost missed what he’d said.

‘Oh... that must be hard for you.’ Was all he could think of to say.

‘Doesn’t go with the image, really, does it? Who needs a gay bodyguard?’ Desi gave him a wry grin, knowing that Trip understood.

‘Well, it works fine for me. Now, let’s go pump some iron.’

***


	51. Chapter 51

Part Fifty-One

The week flew by. 

Trip met Bev for coffee and they had an open and frank discussion about almost everything under the sun, including her pseudo-mother status in his life and how she had just known that things would work out with Chris. They were bothered only twice in the cafe. Once by a six-foot-tall woman with a husky voice and a low-cut top who declared she loved Trip and would marry him on the spot. Trip graciously declined and signed a menu for her. Her huge hands were something of a giveaway and Trip had a feeling she would be the first in a long line of transpeople who would latch onto him as a role model. He felt equally proud and disconcerted by the idea. The second interruption was a man who introduced himself as an agent and offered to represent Trip, leaving his cheaply-printed business card on the table. Bev looked daggers at him and turned to Trip when the man had left.

‘Don’t you go screwing Marco over by jumping ship, y’hear? You’re our biggest asset now. Everyone’s gonna want you as their stunt double, we’re in clover!’

She deadpanned it so perfectly that Trip was preparing an outraged comeback when her face cracked and she broke into the easy, guffawing laugh that he knew so well.

It made him think, though.

‘Now I’m getting back in shape, I’m gonna need some work, Bev. Think Marco’s got anything lined up for me?’

‘I’m sure he’ll find something, hun. We won’t let you starve. Or make you sponge off your film star boyfriend...’ she was loving this.

Later that day Trip went to a consultation with an out-of-town surgeon who was renowned for his work in the field of gender-reassignment surgery. It felt refreshing to be able to talk so openly about his body, what he wanted, what he feared and to hear his options based on a full physical exam rather than an internet search or garbled hearsay horror stories. The surgeon and he looked through photos, both before and after surgery, of guys who had had the kind of procedure Trip was contemplating. Some were hardly distinguishable as having had any kind of work, some looked like they might need revisions and one or two were examples of worst-case scenarios, missing nipples, peculiar fatty lumps and grotesque scarring. Trip was pleased to be told that his size and general physical fitness and musculature made him an ideal candidate for the least invasive procedure which seemed to produce the best results with minimum scarring.

He was alarmed to find out, however, that even this surgery would mean he wouldn’t be able to work for at least six months, possibly even longer, to ensure full healing.

‘We’re basically detaching the front of your chest from the muscle mass, taking out the fat and putting it back together. Think of it like licking the filling out of an Oreo. It won’t stick together again properly for a while and if you stretch it around too much it’ll heal crooked. Plus, I’m not gonna lie to you, moving will hurt for a while.’

Trip laughed at the guy’s twisted analogy but it made him think. Was he really prepared for another long break from work? Just as he’d recovered enough to start gently easing back now? And just as he’d found someone for whom his body didn’t seem to be that much of an issue...

He thanked the surgeon profusely and apologised for what might have seemed like wasting his time.

‘Not at all, Mr Parkes, it’s important that you weigh up all the pros and cons. No-one should go for major elective surgery lightly. Take some time to think about it. Talk it over with that gorgeous young man of yours...’

Trip looked up at him in surprise. The surgeon was grinning.

‘Oh, come on now, you don’t think that people working in the field of gender aren’t following you very closely?

Trip wasn’t entirely sure he felt comfortable with this but he guessed he had better get used to it quickly. It wouldn’t be the last time.

He was thankful that he’d asked Desi to get hold of a rather less distinctive vehicle than his red and white VW and it did feel rather luxurious to be driven around for a while. Two days before, he had taken the van out himself and almost run over a daredevil paparazzo due to its poor manoeuvrability. He’d also noticed a rather nasty key scratch all the way down one side that he was pretty certain hadn’t been an accident. A friend who looked after the vintage vehicle’s mechanics agreed to sort out the scratch and garage the camper for him until Trip felt able to drive around without being hassled, should such a time come.

He and Desi worked out daily, sometimes spending the best part of the day at the gym, eating in the tiny snackbar upstairs, living off curly sandwiches and vending machine coffee.

Towards the end of the week, he found himself at Chris’ place trying on a vast selection of evening suits with a small entourage of Chris’ people; PAs, stylists and Dani, who sniggered throughout the whole event, teasing both of them mercilessly. Eventually, in Dior and Armani respectively, each felt happy with their appearance, Chris opting for his usual plain shirt and thin tie, pushing his boundaries by choosing a purple tie rather than black and a suit with a subtle woven texture and exotic Paisley silk lining. Trip, on the other hand, surprised everyone, himself included, by going for a strikingly tailored satin-lapelled jacket with an extravagantly patterned tie.

‘I’ll wear a bow tie to the Oscars.’ He assured Dani, who had been urging him to wear one to the premiere.

‘I don’t think we’re gonna be in the running for the Oscars.’ Chris mugged. ‘Not really the right mix.’

Once the clothes had been repacked and the team loaded back into the hire van, Chris and Trip found themselves alone with two heavily branded suit-carriers. They flopped down on the sofa.

‘Who knew looking good could be so exhausting?’ Trip sighed.

‘Well, I kind of did.’ Chris replied.

‘Yes, I guess so.’

‘You look great in that suit though. Hell, we look great together.’

‘You think? I wanna do you credit at your premiere.’ Trip squeezed Chris’ hand.

‘Hey, it’s your premiere too!’

‘Well, kinda. We don’t get invited to the openings. We get second nights like the makeup crew and catering people...’

‘Well, you’re sure as hell coming to this one!’ Chris grinned. ‘Oh and Dani has a few interviews lined up for us together afterwards, if you’re up for that’

‘What, like TV and stuff?’ Trip furrowed his brow.

‘Yes, TV and stuff, chat shows, morning programming, pre-records... some radio, coupla magazines. Online zines...’ Chris paused as he registered the glazed look in Trip’s eyes. ‘It’s OK, she and I will brief you. It’s easy! Mostly you get the questions in advance so we can work out what you want to say, chuck out the ones you don’t feel comfortable with.’

‘OK.’ Trip said in a very small voice.

‘Sweetie, you’re a Hollywood Wife now, public property... no, actually, not public: you’re all mine.’ Chris lurched towards Trip to hug him merrily but Trip was rigid, bristling.

‘I am not a ‘Hollywood Wife’ and I am not anyone’s property. I will decide whether I do interviews but I’m not going to become an add-on to your publicity machine.’

Chris drew back and there was an uncomfortable silence.

‘You’re right... I’m sorry... I kinda got carried away.’ Chris was startled by Trip’s reaction.

Trip sucked in a labored breath.

‘Chris, ‘Hollywood Wife’ wasn’t the most tactful thing you could have called me...’ he began.

Chris gaped in horrified realisation. ‘Oh, fuck, ohhh.. God, I am SO sorry. I just didn’t think. Oh God...’ he was utterly devastated by his gaffe.

Trip took a deep breath and lowered his shoulders a little. Tears threatened at the corners of his eyes and his throat tightened. He swallowed and looked at Chris, who still had his hand over his mouth, his cheeks alarmingly pale.

‘OK, let’s move on.’ Trip said, as calmly as he could.

‘Trip, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything, I’m...’

‘Moving on.’ Trip cut him off firmly. He rose to his feet, hefting the suit carrier into his arms.

‘What’s the plan for Friday night?’

‘Erm... shall we come pick you up in the limo? About seven?’ Chris sounded uncertain, tentative.

‘OK. See you then.’ Trip made to leave.

‘Trip...’ Chris stood up and grasped his arm, tears in his eyes and a catch in his voice ‘...I’m sorry!’

‘OK.’ Trip spoke gravely and kissed Chris on the cheek. ‘Just give me a bit of time, OK?’

‘OK.’

Chris closed the door after him and deliberately banged his head on it until it hurt.


	52. Chapter 52

Part Fifty-Two

Friday arrived and Trip went for his usual early-morning workout with Desi. The paparazzi had cottoned onto the fact that they kept a fairly regular routine and that no interesting new photos or information were going to materialise if they staked out the apartment steps early in the morning. Trip almost felt things had returned to normal again, except for Desi’s presence.

Chris had called him the previous day, having left a decent interval for Trip to cool off. Trip had gotten over the mis-step and come to realise that it probably wouldn’t be the last and it didn’t really mean anything very much. Chris had been so upset and really didn’t know what to do to make things right. He’d clumsily tried to explain on the phone, desperate not to put his foot in it again.

‘Trip, I wasn’t thinking. I – I... you wanna know the honest truth? I forgot. I was making a campy gay joke! I think of you as my boyfriend, not my trans boyfriend, it really just didn’t even cross my mind, not even after you’d reacted! I know that’s probably awful and wrong and, I dunno, really dense of me but I just forgot! And I’m sorry. It doesn’t make it right, what I said but...’

Chris’ voice had been spiralling higher and higher with anxiety, the more he tried to dig himself out of the hole. 

‘Chris?’ Trip paused him.

‘What?’ Chris’ voice wavered on the other end.

‘Thank you’

‘What for?’

‘For that. For saying you forgot. That was lovely.’ 

Trip was smiling. It was an awesome explanation even if it wasn’t true. Trip rather suspected Chris was being utterly honest, however. Why would he lie?

‘It’s the truth, Trip. Really. I love you and I fucked up and I’m so sorry. But I love you.’

‘I love you too, I’ll see you tomorrow.’

***

Trip was nervously getting himself ready for the evening’s events. He’d been wearing his new dress shoes all afternoon to wear them in and they were rubbing blisters on his heels. He kicked them off and turned the shower on for the second time that day.

A thirty second walk up a red carpet really shouldn’t fill him with such dread. He was just going to the movies with Chris, gonna have a few photos, answer a few cheesy questions. Mainly be Chris’ arm-candy. Trip bit his lip. Chris hadn’t been far off the mark with his tactless comment. This was still all about the one of them who was actually a bona fide movie star. But everyone would be wondering about him, about what he had under that expensive shirt, about what they did together, about what was in his pants. Trip turned off the shower and, dripping, took his packer out of the cabinet in the bathroom. Tonight he would feel more secure with all his parts where they should be; camera flashes could be quite revealing and high definition photos could be scrutinised in quite alarming detail...

He spent longer on his hair than usual and sprayed perhaps a little too much fragrance before wriggling into the tightest of his compression undershirts. He nursed his heels with a couple of Band-Aids and finally slipped on the suit jacket. It felt marvelous; fitting him better than he had expected, the fronts hanging closed over his chest, not gaping like cheaper tailoring had a tendency to. He suddenly wished he had a full-length mirror but realised that it was too late now to change anything anyway.

Just as he was slipping on his shoes, the front door buzzer went and Desi announced his arrival. Trip looked at his watch and realised that Chris and the car would be here any minute also.

‘Come in, I’m on my way down.’

He figured he could always pace up and down in the lobby until they arrived.

As he started descending the final flight of stairs, he saw Desi at the bottom, all decked out in a tux with a bowtie.

‘Hey, are you allowed to look smarter than me?’ Trip grinned, thankful for once that his frame was slimmer and less pumped. The guy looked square in the boxy jacket. Smart, but like a fridge in a suit...

‘Right,’ Desi announced. ‘I take your keys, your phone...’ he held out his hand as Trip obediently handed them over. I will tail you wherever you go at a discrete distance. Don’t worry, I’ll be there. If shit kicks off, let me move you, don’t resist me, let me shove you somewhere safe, OK? Your instinct might be to fight me but you may not always notice what I do, I won’t do it unless I have to. I gotta tell you this stuff so you know. Things can happen so fast.’

Trip’s eyes widened in alarm. 

‘Are you expecting anything to kick off?’ he asked worriedly.

‘No, not especially but it’s your first public outing with Chris and there has been a bit of nasty stuff said, you know that...’

Trip shivered slightly. A vague memory of being shoved and pinned down flashed upon him. Still, Desi was there to ensure he was looked after and it seemed unlikely that anyone would create a fuss alongside a red carpet, surely?

Desi’s cellphone emitted a shrill beep from his pocket and as he looked at it, he nodded towards Trip.

‘Car’s outside.’ 

He opened the lobby door and Trip stepped out to a barrage of shouts and flashing cameras. He put on his best smile as he realised that these weren’t the usual selection of paparazzi but mostly young girls and women in too-tight tee shirts. He seemed to be acquiring a fanbase.

Desi opened the door to the black limo awaiting him by the kerb and Trip stepped in. Chris was reclining in the luxurious gloom with what looked like a glass of champagne.

‘Starting early tonight, huh?’ Trip grinned as he kissed Chris’ cheek.

‘It’s mineral water.’ Chris smiled. ‘Want some?’

‘Yes please. I think I just met my fan club.’ Trip pointed a thumb over his shoulder at the crowd.

‘Lucky, lucky, you.’ Chris congratulated with an ironic undertone, pouring from a bottle stashed in a shiny black bar fridge.

‘Thanks.’ Trip said, reaching forward to take the glass and sipping at it.

‘Here.’ Chris said, shyly handing Trip a small green box.

‘What’s this? My corsage?!’ Trip replaced the glass on the small recessed counter and opened the box to reveal a single white rosebud secured to the box’s lining with a pearl-headed pin.

‘It’s my apology. Will you wear it?’ Chris spoke quietly, his voice almost lost under the sound of the car’s tyres.

‘Of course! Thank you.’ Trip removed the buttonhole and allowed Chris to pin it to his left lapel.

‘You wear it on the left so it’s close to your heart.’ He said, patting the lapel flat again and admiring Trip.

‘You look gorgeous.’

‘So do you. Damn, we are a fucking beautiful couple! I’m so proud to be with you.’ 

Trip was suddenly overwhelmed by a huge grin and a feeling of sheer joy. Gone were the nerves, gone the fear of what might happen; he was going out with his boyfriend, no, his lover, and the whole world was going to see them looking amazing and happy together. 

It really didn’t get much better than that.

Both of them sat back and enjoyed the journey.

A short while later, through the tinted windows, Trip could see that they were approaching the movie theater where the premiere was being held. He straightened his jacket and brushed imaginary dust off his knee. 

‘So how do we do this?’ Trip began ‘And where’s Desi... and Boots?’

‘They’ll be following, don’t worry. When we pull up we wait for the driver to open the door. She won’t do that till they’re here. Then we get out... smile, walk a bit, chat a bit... or I’ll chat a bit if you’re cool with that? Boots and Desi’ll keep us moving and Dani will be there waiting for us. She can’t miss an opportunity to frock up.’

Chris reached for Trip’s hand and squeezed it.

‘I’ll take care of you, I promise. Just remember: it’s no-where near as scary as dropping off that crane.’

Trip grinned ‘That’s not scary!’

The car drew to a smooth stop and Trip heard the driver’s door open. There was what seemed like an interminable wait until their door was finally opened. Chris rose from his seat and got out to the sound of cheers and shouts and then he leaned back in to take Trip’s hand and steady him as he climbed out. 

Trip was aware of the noise, the cameras, Desi and Boots’ substantial presence closeby and Dani, hovering a little further off in a floor length pink gown; yet all that seemed to strike him was the fact that the red carpet was actually more of a felt fabric than carpet and that the bit by the sidewalk where he alighted was distinctly stained. So much for Hollywood glamor.

Chris held his hand tightly as they walked past the crowds held back by thick gold-coloured ropes. Chris stopped every few steps to smile for the cameras, Trip followed his lead and hoped he was looking in the same direction as Chris was.

‘Chris! Chris!’ Came an insistent shout from a woman in a silver dress, a cameraman at her shoulder.

Chris approached her, smiling.

‘Hi Chris, hi Trip, thanks for stopping to talk to us tonight...’

‘Thanks Nikky, good to see you.’ Chris was as smooth as silk.

‘So what was your favourite part of filming this movie, cause you play quite an adventurous guy, don’t you? Did you do any of your own stunts?’ 

Oh, she’s good, thought Trip as the interviewer thrust the microphone under Chris’ nose...

‘I did a few falls and I took a bullet but nothing too dangerous. Trip here did all the really impressive stuff.’ Chris turned to him and the interviewer shifted her focus.

‘Trip you are Chris’ stunt double in the film and also Chris’ new squeeze we understand, how does it feel to be suddenly in the limelight?’

The microphone was shoved under his nose and he answered with the first thing that came into his head.

‘It’s great, I’m very lucky to have Chris to show me how it’s done.’ he heard Chris laugh beside him.

‘And I’m very lucky that he’s the one falling off high buildings for me!’

Trip heard Boots behind them, ushering them on and the interviewer thanked them both before turning to the camera and speaking rapidly and excitedly as they slowly walked on.

They stopped for several more photos and another brief on-camera interview which managed to stay soley focussed on the movie before Dani, Desi and Boots urged them both into the lobby of the theater.

‘The real stars have just pulled up.’ Dani muttered with a grin, indicating another long black car pulling up at the kerb.

‘Hey!’ Chris socked Dani in the arm before turning to Trip.

‘You OK? You did really well out there!’

‘I have no idea what just happened, I hope I didn’t say anything stupid.’ Trip was still rather dazed.

‘No, you were great!’ Chris squeezed his hand and kissed Trip lightly on the cheek before turning back to the lobby and the crowds of cast and important people milling around, flashing jewels, sequinned frocks and acres of gleaming Hollywood dental work.’

‘C’mon’ Chris began to pull Trip by the arm ‘There’s some people I want you to meet.’

They threaded their way through the knots of people, many of them greeting Chris, several acknowledging Trip also. As they approached a tall, broad man and a smaller woman with long auburn hair, Chris moved forward and enveloped them both in an enthusiastic hug. As he pulled back, his eyes shining, he turned to Trip.

‘Trip, I’d like you to meet my parents.’


	53. Chapter 53

Part Fifty-Three

 

Twenty minutes into the screening, Trip suddenly felt like he had woken up. He refocused on the scene in front of him: Chris’ face in close up, angry and significantly more worn-looking than in real life. The music was reaching a crescendo as the action suddenly switched to a long shot of the outside of a building. Trip realised that he was unable to recall a single scene from the first part of the film. It was as if from the moment he and Chris stepped out of the limo onto the red carpet, he had been someone else. He must have chatted to Chris’ parents as he was able to recall their faces clearly and his mother’s warm and natural voice as she spoke but nothing of what they had said lodged in his memory, no part of the storyline of the movie struck him as edited images, merely sections of annotated script.

He reached for Chris’ hand in the darkness and squeezed it, feeling like he wanted to close his eyes and just concentrate on the reality of that touch. Chris leaned over a little.

‘You OK?’ he whispered.

‘Yeah.’ Trip looked at the silvered profile beside him. ‘Love you.’ 

‘Love you.’ Chris whispered back, pressing their hands together and weaving his fingers with Trip’s.

Trip looked back at the screen to see a figure tumbling down a ridiculously long staircase. In actual fact it had been a reasonably ordinary sized staircase, with several different falls shot from several different angles thanks to the complete lack of any kind of banister. Trip remembered the bruise he’d sustained on his shoulder. Stairfalls were tricky, there was virtually no way anyone, even an experienced stunt actor, could get away without a little bumping and bruising. 

The figure, now unmistakably Chris, rose to its feet at the end of the fall and continued to fight with another character who had leapt over the amazing reappearing hand-rail. 

Trip remembered why he very rarely went to see the films upon which he had worked. Once you knew how it had all been done, the magic was lost. Also, he was overly critical of his own work and others’ and could easily spend whole movies uselessly re-choreographing sequences in his head. He’d laughed with Marco about this tendency a couple of years previously and Marco had bought him a handheld video camera so he could film himself and watch with a critical eye later on. But that had backfired as he began to watch the footage as he went along and wasted a lot of on-set time repeating over and over. Marco had confiscated the camera and Trip had tried to trust that if Marco and the director were happy, then it was good enough. 

As he watched the action sequences, he felt desperate to get back to work and resolved to prod Marco for whatever he had going. He would still need to be careful of his ribs and wrist but he was certain it wouldn’t be long before he’d be back on top form again. The thought comforted him and he tried again to get back to the film.

Chris was onscreen, in bed with his beautiful (and exceptionally thin) co-star. Trip idly gazed at them, wondering how he felt about this. Perhaps he should be jealous? Maybe amused at the tattoo that Bev had stencilled onto his back for the shot? 

He was interested that he felt nothing at all. He barely even recognised the man on screen as the one sitting beside him, the one he had spent ten days making love with in the mountains, the one who had sat beside him as he lay in the hospital, possibly the very day after the bed-scene had been shot...

That was it. It just wasn’t the same person. Just as Trip couldn’t disengage enough from his own work to just watch the action and not be critical, he knew that the actor was just doing his job, making his character a separate person. He wasn’t in love with the man on the screen. That scrawny woman could have the tattooed guy who was now apparently in the shower whilst she rummaged through his bureau.

He would take the gentle, thoughtful, intelligent and beautifully human man beside him, with all his mis-steps and self-possessed moments, with all that his fickle and mercurial profession made him. He’d take the Chris he’d seen utterly exposed and without guard as he lay naked and exhausted on the rumpled bed in the mountains; as he looked first thing in the morning, bearing a laden breakfast tray of burnt toast and strong coffee, as he was even now, critically watching the screen in front of them, eyes apparently fixed and focussed, but fingers twining with his own, thumb stroking circles around Trip’s little finger.

There was no point now in trying to catch up with the movie. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know what was going to happen. Two thirds of the way through, Chris’ character took a bullet (rather well, mused Trip, remembering watching Marco and Chris work on the movement) and died, leaving the remaining characters to discover where he had hidden a vital document. 

Instead, Trip took a leaf from Chris’ book; fixed his eyes on the screen, set his mouth in a concentrated line and completely disengaged. He challenged himself to remember every one of their intimate moments together. In detail. With audio.

***

After the film and the short party in the lobby, more photos and idle chit-chat with suited men and sparkling women, an overlong visit to the bathroom which brought Chris hunting for him and many congratulatory handshakes and back pats, Trip was exhausted, physically and mentally. His shoes had rubbed the Band Aids right off and he had a horrible feeling that his right heel was bleeding through his sock. His face was aching from smiling incessantly and he was tight and tense around his shoulders. No-one had mentioned anything about his status with Chris or his gender identity, all smalltalk had been about the film and how wonderful it was and how well everyone had done and how good the script had been, the director had been, the stars had been. It made Trip faintly nauseous.

He excused himself from a group of people and went to refill his glass. Free Champagne was a significant perk. It was entirely necessary to the guests’ survival, however. Without it, Trip surmised that the people, the conversation and the steady flow of compliments would be significantly less sparkling. As he took another glass, he felt a hand in the small of his back.

‘Hey, you about ready to blow this popsicle stand?’ Chris’ lips grazed close to his ear, making him shiver momentarily.

‘So, so ready.’ Trip nodded emphatically.

‘’Kay. Lemme just get my folks sorted. You wanna come say goodbye?’

‘Of course.’ Thinking on it, Trip realised that the evening had been a much more significant event than a movie premiere. 

He felt he had regained his grip on reality as he charmingly shook hands with Chris’ father and kissed Chris’ mother goodnight. She turned back as she was leaving and grabbed Trip’s hand.

‘Look after him, Trip. I worry, y’know?’ and she spun on her heel before either he or Chris could answer.

Chris clutched his arm.

‘She likes you.’ He grinned, rising onto his toes like an excited child.

‘Everyone wants me to protect you.’ Trip shook his head in puzzlement. ‘You’re the least in-need-of-protection person I know.’

‘I know, great, isn’t it? I have everyone fooled into thinking I’m a delicate pixie!’ Chris giggled.

‘Are you tipsy?’ Trip turned to him.

‘A little. It’s the only way to get through these things. D’you wanna go home?’

Trip thought for a moment. Although the present situation was intolerable to him, he was drunk enough to want to prolong the evening just a little longer, to show off their partnership just a bit more, to allow Chris to shine for a few more hours yet.

‘Shall we go on somewhere?’ he suggested with a wicked smile.

‘Like a nightclub?’ Chris’ face lit up.

‘Yeah, how about it?’ Trip’s energy levels were rising rapidly.

‘Absolutely!’

They rather haphazardly said farewells to the director and a handful of other people closeby before Boots and Desi flanked them out of the door.

There were still significant numbers of people outside, fans of all the actors awaiting their idols’ departure and a photo or an autograph.

Chris posed with a couple of fans and signed a handful of photos before waving and returning to Trip near the limo door. Trip wondered momentarily how it had materialised at just the right moment before he noticed Desi speaking in an undertone into a Bluetooth earpiece. The driver had the engine running and Boots held the door open.

Trip was waiting for Chris to get in when he heard a shout. Looking in the direction it came from, he caught his breath as something exploded wetly on his shoulder, he spun round as Desi bundled him into the car and leaped off in pursuit.

The last thing Trip heard as the door slammed shut was a woman’s voice screaming

‘You queer FUCK!’

He lurched forward as the limo pulled swiftly away, and reached warily behind him to find out what the missile had been. His fingers touched the slippery wetness of egg. 

Great. The dry cleaning bill would be huge for that one.

Chris had worriedly caught him as landed in the seat.

‘What happened? Are you OK?’

‘I got egged. Someone threw a fucking egg at me.’ Trip was wiping his fingers on the front of the jacket.

‘Oh, God, babe, I’m so sorry. You wanna go home and change?’

‘Nah. I’ll just take the jacket off. I’m OK. Just a bit surprised is all. You think they waited there all evening just to do that?’

‘Probably. There are some nutcases out there.’ Chris sighed.

Trip shrugged off his jacket and, checking that the rose was still intact, dumped it on the floor. Loosening his tie, he reached for the minibar door. 

‘Want some more bubbly? He asked Chris, delighted to see there was an unopened bottle inside, chilled to perfection.

‘Yes. Why not?’ Chris reached down two clean glasses from the elastic-secured shelf as Trip popped the cork and filled the glasses to the brim, spilling only a little.

‘To your premiere!’ Trip announced, raising his glass.

‘To yours!’ Chris replied, clinking his class with Trip’s.

‘Where are we going to, guys?’ A disembodied voice crackled from the speakers in the ceiling.

Chris replied with the name of a well-known Hollywood night spot.

Trip looked askance at him.

‘Really? Really?’

‘You got a better idea?’

Trip thought. 

‘Are we gonna be... y’know, are we...?’ Trip took another sip from his glass and gestured to them both.

‘I think we’ll be fine. Adam Lambert’s been spotted there more than once with his tongue down some guy’s throat. And it wasn’t always Sauli’s!’ he gaped comically.

‘OK then. Cheers! To tongues down peoples’ throats!’ Trip raised his glass again and drained it.

Chris grinned and did the same, picking up the bottle to refill their glasses just as Trip held his wrist and leant in for a messy, drunken kiss which melted him right back into the seat, almost spilling Champagne all down Trip’s back.

The driver switched off the intercom and swung the car round. She had a feeling her night’s work had barely begun.

***


	54. Chapter 54

Part Fifty-Four

 

Trip was once again apprehensive as they began to approach the area of town where the club was situated. Would it be another public exit from the car? Would he have to smile and stop for photos? He had no idea and didn’t much relish the thought of any of it.

‘Are we gonna get out right by the front?’ he asked, his brow furrowing, downing the last of his drink.

‘I don’t think so. I’ve had enough of that.’ Chris pressed a button in the side of the cabinet to his left.

‘Yep?’ the speaker in the roof crackled into life.

‘Can you drop us round the side?’ Chris asked.

‘Will do. I’m just doing a circuit or two, waiting for your guys to catch up.’ The driver’s voice replied. Perhaps the egg incident had taken a little longer to deal with.

Trip shifted uneasily in his seat.

‘So, do we stand in line or what? How d’you do this?’

‘No idea. Never been there before! Other places I’ve been to, it kinda depends on the door staff. With a big guy beside you, they usually let you in. Well, they’ve let me in, anyway. I guess they reason that if you’re a name, it’s worth them letting you in. Good publicity and all that...’

Trip had a slight sense that Chris was beginning to question his enthusiastic suggestion from earlier.

The speaker broke into his thoughts.

‘OK, the boys are right behind us. Ready to leap out?’

Trip and Chris looked at each other. Suddenly the simple act of alighting from a vehicle had become fraught with anxiety. Trip reflected that this was probably all too familiar to Chris.

‘Ready.’ Chris replied and moved forwards in his seat. 

‘Me first this time.’ Trip pushed him back gently.

‘Ooh, getting a taste for celebrity perks, huh?’ Chris raised an eyebrow.

‘No... really...no. I just wanna hand you out of a limo. That’s all. Call it my chivalrous nature.’ Trip grinned.

As they waited for the door to be opened, Trip leant down to his jacket, crumpled on the floor. He carefully detached the slightly wilted rose from the lapel and put it in one of the glasses on the countertop.

‘I wanna keep that.’ He smiled, catching Chris’ eye as the door clicked open behind him.

‘OK guys, all clear. It’s pretty busy tonight, you might have to wait for a bit.’ Boots’ face appeared in the doorway.

Chris peered through the tinted window.

‘Where are we?’ he asked, squinting.

‘Couple blocks away. There’s nowhere nearby where we could drop you without the full rush. Dani said no to that.’ Boots withdrew his head and Trip followed him out of the door. As he reached back for Chris he felt his head spin a little. It was true; Champagne did go straight to your head. Especially if you drank it in a car...

They found themselves standing on a dark side street, Desi, Boots and Dani were already waiting on the sidewalk.

‘OK boys, let’s go partaaaay!’ Dani bubbled excitedly. It looked as if she had done this several times before. Trip felt a little happier having her along. As they walked the two blocks to the front of the nightclub, he felt rather small and insignificant. Boots and Desi towered over him and were at least as broad as they were high, Chris on his left stood a good few inches above him and Dani, in heels to his right, also appeared taller and certainly more visually striking in her pink gown. A part of him felt like he didn’t really have a role here and for the first time he wondered if maybe always being the uncredited stunt man was what he still wanted. Mainly he was wishing fervently that he was taller. Or that Dani wasn’t wearing such ridiculously towering shoes. Or that he still had his jacket. He glanced to his side. Damn, Chris looked good. Trip began to loosen his tie and undo his cufflinks. If he couldn’t be smart, he’d at least be comfortable. His shoes were rubbing terribly and he regretted not having stashed a Band Aid or two in his pocket earlier. 

‘You OK?’ Chris asked, noticing Trip walking a little awkwardly.

‘Yeah. New shoes.’

‘Oh, God, tell me about it! Boots: Band Aid patrol when we get in!’ Boots nodded, patting his jacket pocket knowingly.

‘Unbelievable.’ Trip muttered, shaking his head.

‘I used to always get given shoes to wear that were too damn small! My feet got real big, real fast. There’s never a chance to wear them in either, is there? Heel blisters?’  
Chris seemed genuinely concerned.

‘Yeah.’

Chris took his hand. 

‘Don’t worry. We have these amazing blister things that are all like Jell-o and soft. They’re fantastic.’

‘Oh, God, I use those!’ Dani chimed in alongside them. ‘Incredible after a night of dancing in these stupid things.’ She gestured at her feet with her jewelled purse.

Trip blinked as he walked. It seemed unreal to be chatting about sore feet and bandages whilst on the way to a glittering Hollywood nightclub. With a glittering Hollywood star. And bodyguards.

They had arrived on the wide expanse of concrete in front of the club. Seething crowds, a well-corralled line of glamorous would-be guests waited within red-roped enclosures. Huge doormen blocked the whole array of front doors, only the central ones of which appeared to operate. It wasn’t as noisy as the red carpet but it seemed more chaotic and Trip wondered what Boots and Desi were thinking. No-one was screaming Chris’ name but a definite buzz had set up as they approached. Dani strutted forward and leant over one of the barrier ropes to kiss a tall doorman with a peachy fuzz over the top and bottom of his face. He didn’t crack a smile but it was obvious he knew Dani well. She spoke a few words in his ear and he glanced across to the little group. Nodding, he beckoned them over. He unclipped the rope and ushered them all in with a ‘Good evening, gentlemen.’ A handshake to Boots and Desi and they were suddenly inside.

The lobby was all mirrors and pinspot lights and a vast sweeping staircase leading upwards. Trip had a funny feeling this was going to be a million miles away from any nightclub experience he’d ever had. Flashing back momentarily to the fateful night of his attack, he thought of Silver and the gorgeous boy he’d danced briefly with. He doubted that he and Chris would ever be able to visit that kind of place. 

A part of him felt a little sad at that.

They reached the top of the stairs and found themselves looking down on a large underlit dancefloor ringed with violet velvet banquette booths. There were tables all around the balcony area as well and further into the cavernous space, there appeared to be smaller alcoves with more couches and little areas where, no doubt, dancing also occurred.

The music was loud and bass-y but without the roaring distortion Trip was used to. Every seat seemed to be occupied and Trip wondered whether they would have to spend their entire visit standing. Chris was leaning on the railing, carefully examining the crowds below. He spotted a waving arm and turned to Dani who was also checking everyone out. Turning to Trip, he beckoned urgently. 

‘There’s some people I know down there. We’ll go join them, OK?’

By the time Trip had followed Chris down a slightly more industrial-looking staircase to the dancefloor level, Dani was ahead of them already delightedly embracing a small group of elegant women and couple of nonchalant looking men who had colonised one of the booths.

As they came over, he and Chris were hugged and kissed and squealed at and he was introduced to everyone; a rather redundant move on Chris’ part as the minute Trip actually looked at the women, he recognised them as some of Chris’ co-stars from his previous role. A little more grown up, a little more glamorous but still recognisable. The two men, he didn’t recognise but he shook hands as they introduced themselves.

Trip felt a bit awkward as he stood by whilst the old friends chatted and Chris babbled animatedly about the premiere earlier that evening. He looked around and saw a long, glass bar. Few people seemed to be buying drinks and this puzzled him until he saw waiting staff in tuxedos, men and women, moving between the tables and booths. Of course a place like this wouldn’t encourage a crush at the bar. Of course their clientele would simply hand over credit cards and let their total be tallied up at the end of the night. 

Trip turned fully away from the booth and looked over the dance floor. There were several groups of people dancing rather half-heartedly, mostly using the space as a substitute for having a place to sit and talk. Trip guessed that even though it was approaching midnight, most people’s night was only just beginning.

He was suddenly aware of Dani slipping an arm through his as she sidled up beside him.

‘You OK, Trip?’ she smiled, her voice shrill over the music. Everyone seemed to be asking that. He wondered if he really did look as unsure of himself as he felt. 

‘Yep. Did Chris say there were some Band Aids around, my heels are killing.’

Dani’s eyes widened as she remembered and she smacked her forehead.

‘God, yes! I forgot!’ she waved Boots over and grabbed his shoulder as she spoke into his ear. He nodded and pulled a packet from his pocket, handing it to Trip. Trip glanced around until he spotted where the restrooms were and, waving the packet at Chris, he headed off. 

Desi followed at a discrete distance.

One of the young men from their group followed Desi.

The men’s restroom was like a suite in itself. The cubicals and urinals were around a corner and the area with the washbasins was lined with plush armchairs. Thankfully, Trip sank into one of them and slipped off his shoes. Desi entered as he was pulling off his socks.

‘Ouch’ Desi commented, seeing the raw wound on Trip’s heel.

‘Yeah. I haven’t rubbed a blister in ages. I forgot how annoying it is.’ He began to apply one of the clear plastic dressings from the packet and glanced up as the door opened.

‘Hey’ said the man who’d followed them. Kyle, Trip thought, recognising the distinctive notched lapel of his jacket.

He returned to tending his feet and was aware of Kyle watching him with somewhat unfocussed eyes. They guy suddenly snuffled with amusement before spinning on his heel and leaving the restroom.

Trip looked up at Desi, a mystified expression on his face.

‘Uh, I think he thought there was something else in that little packet.’ Desi muttered.

Trip knitted his eyebrows before realising what he meant.

‘Ohhh! OK. So, memo to self: don’t wave small packets around in Hollywood nightclubs and then disappear off to the restroom!’

Desi laughed. ‘Best not to.’

Trip finished up patching his feet, replaced his socks and shoes and stood up. It certainly felt much more comfortable now. He was relieved.

‘So what do I do to get a beer in this place?’ he asked as they were about to leave.

I’ll fetch you one. Put it on the table’s tab. They can argue later about who had what.’ Desi grinned wickedly.

‘Thanks, Desi. I need to get wrecked. Just make sure I don’t make a fool of myself, huh?’

‘Understood.’ A curt nod and they were launched back out into the wall of sound.

***


	55. Chapter 55

Part Fifty-Five

 

As Trip returned to the booth, Chris held out his hand and motioned for the woman beside him to make a space for Trip to sit down. Chris was already halfway down a glass of what appeared to be Coke but which probably had an additional ingredient. He was grinning and enjoying holding court with his old friends.

Trip squeezed himself into the space on the couch and apologised to the woman. She waved a hand, dismissing the apology.

‘So how was the movie?’ she asked, having to almost shout over the music’s thumping beat.

‘It was good, really good.’ Trip wasn’t certain whether to bother going into fine detail. Chances were she would only be able to hear about a quarter of what he was saying anyway.

‘So what are you up to these days?’ he ventured, mentally smacking his own forehead at the idiotic sound of his question.

‘I just finished a pilot and there’s talk of another movie...’ the woman’s brown eyes sparkled as she spoke, enthusiastic and animated. She continued and Trip responded appropriately, becoming more and more conscious of the fact that he just wanted a drink and to get out on the dance floor. He’d done more than enough social chat and smiling for one evening. He needed to get moving. When an appropriate pause came in the conversation he excused himself as he turned to Chris.

‘Wanna dance?’ he asked directly into Chris’ ear. 

Chris pulled back and laughed.

‘Maybe in a bit, not drunk enough yet!’ he squeezed Trip’s leg, nodding towards the dancefloor ‘You go ahead if you want to. Dani’ll probably love you to bits if you take her with you.’

Trip looked over at Dani, perched precariously on the end of the couch, almost slipping off onto the floor every so often, laughing uproariously at the man beside her. Over her head, Trip noticed Desi returning from the bar with several drinks on a tray. A bottle of beer was placed on the table in front of Trip and he nodded his thanks.

With a sigh of relief, he picked up the beer and drank off almost half of it in rapid, icy-cold swigs. The Champagne buzz from earlier was beginning to need a top-up. He lowered the bottle and, excusing himself once more, wriggled out of the booth and over to Dani, who was shrieking with laughter, her head thrown back. When she had recovered, Trip squatted down beside her.

‘Hey, Dani, Chris says you like to dance..?’

‘I love to dance! Are you asking me?’

‘Uh, yes. Just cause I was going to...and...’ Trip felt a little foolish.

‘Let’s go baybeeee!’ 

Dani leapt up, hoiking her gown away from the floor in a rather unladylike fashion. She began to totter forwards, muttered ‘Oh fuck it’ under her breath and kicked her shoes back towards the booth. Trip shook his head in amusement as she returned, linking arms with him as they headed for the dancefloor. Trip held his half-empty bottle and drank as he moved back and forth facing Dani. She was grinning insanely, her arms raised above her head, apparently oblivious to his presence. Trip smiled, she might be an incredibly artful and competent PR manager by day but by night she was a madwoman. 

Trip drank the last of his beer and deposited the empty bottle on a tray being carried past by one of the penguin-suited staff. With his hands free, he felt a little more mobile and beckoned Dani further into the by-now seething crowd.

‘You’re a wild man, Trip!’ Dani yelled at him as she danced. Trip ducked his head uncertainly as she went on. ‘Chris won’t dance when he’s out, he’s too uptight. I get bored when we’re out together...’ 

Trip fell to wondering how many such evenings they had had. He visualised Dani as Chris’ eyes and ears as well as default companion. Even when wildly euphoric as now, he imagined she was probably in full control of her senses and keeping an eye out for random photographers and awkward situations. Just as Boots was guarding Chris’ body, Dani was responsible for his image.

Knowing that Boots and Desi were standing conspicuous guard over them and Dani was closeby gave Trip all the reassurance he needed as he closed his eyes and let the music wash over him.

Three or four tracks later, he was aware of the tempo changing and a heavier, more grinding beat taking over. The dancefloor miraculously transformed as people beat a hasty retreat and those that remained locked into couples, bodies pressed together. Trip pushed a hand through his sweaty hair and inclined his head towards the seating area, throwing Dani a querying look. Dani shrugged and led the way. The movement and the alcohol mixed with the insistent beat had worked their magic upon Trip and he felt loose and relaxed physically and at the same time edgy and in search of something intangible. His eyes fell on Chris, who had looked up at him as he approached. The excitable grin on his lips froze as he caught Trip’s gaze. Trip saw his tongue sneak out to touch his upper lip and then his bottom lip curled in as he bit it softly. Trip allowed himself to blink slowly and he made certain he was standing tall, shoulders braced, as he reached a hand out to Chris; not asking him to dance but making it an inevitability.

Chris allowed himself to be raised to his feet, vaguely thankful that he’d shed his jacket a while before. Trip reached the edge of the dancefloor and pulled Chris’ body to his, catching the gasp he uttered as their chests met. Trip wrapped his arms around Chris and pressed his face against Chris’ neck. He felt arms encircling his back and they moved together, neither really caring if it was to the beat or not.

Trip allowed his eyes to close and burrowed a little deeper into Chris’ neck. Chris responded by holding him tighter and nuzzling his lips into Trip’s hair.

‘I love you so much. I wanna hold you and be with you all the time.’ Chris slurred against his ear.

‘Me too.’ Trip replied, almost inaudible over the noise. He wondered vaguely why Chris seemed to have been ignoring him if he had wanted them to be close all evening.

‘Just hold me, Trip. I’m tired of looking out for people who are looking out for me. I’m so tired on being on my guard the whole time. I just wanna be drunk and stupid and dance with you and hold you. I don’t care who sees.’ Chris’ voice was cracking with the strain of making himself heard, mixed with the raw emotion that seemed to be pouring forth.

‘I’ve got you, babe. It’s OK. I’ve got you.’ Trip leaned back a little and tilted his face up to Chris’. ‘C’mere’ he pressed a firm kiss on Chris’ lips which rapidly turned from a chaste comfort into a melting invitation as Chris opened his mouth and slid his tongue into Trip’s. Trip couldn’t help but respond and they stood on the dancefloor devouring each other with a passion that left them breathless.

Several minutes passed before Trip became aware of Dani’s pink presence beside them. He pulled back, suddenly self-conscious and wiped his mouth on Chris’ shoulder whilst stifling a smile.

‘What?’ Chris rolled his head around to face Dani, his eyelids heavy.

‘Reel it in a bit guys, you’re being watched.’ She grinned. Trip sensed that she was sounding more lighthearted than she felt. He released his hold on Chris, who grimaced like a child who’d just been chastised.

‘Oh, fuck off.’ He slurred. ‘Imma kissing my boyfriend...’

Trip hadn’t realised just how drunk he was.

‘Yes, hon and that’s lovely but every camera in the place has just snapped you doing it and if we’re not careful, we’ll break the internet.’ Dani quipped, right back on form.

‘Don’t care!’ Chris threw an arm out which Trip managed to grab and wrap around his own waist as he guided Chris back to the couch.

Dani touched Trip’s shoulder as he sat down beside Chris.

‘Think we should call it a night?’ she asked.

‘Yeah, probably.’ Trip nodded. 

He saw Dani approach Boots and Desi and speak to them by standing on her still-bare tiptoes and bellowing in their ears. Desi immediately headed back up the stairs to the lobby, talking into his Bluetooth earpiece as he went. 

‘C’mon babe, let’s get you home to bed.’ Trip rubbed Chris’ shoulder as he spoke into his ear.

‘’kay.’ Chris seemed surprisingly amenable to the idea. His face looked suddenly tired and resigned. ‘Just gonna say bye to ever’one.’

Trip stood by as Chris hugged and kissed his friends goodnight; Trip leaned in after him and shook hands with the guys and kissed the girls on the cheek.

The brunette he’d been talking to earlier leant in as if to speak to him. Trip pulled back with a wicked grin:

‘Don’t tell me to look after him, cause I do and I will!’

She looked bashfully up at him and squeezed his hand with a smile.

‘Goodnight Trip, it’s been lovely meeting you.’

He turned away and , carefully supporting Chris, who was making an excellent job of appearing completely sober and in control, headed for the stairs, Dani and Boots following close behind.

***


	56. Chapter 56

Part Fifty-Six

 

Back in the limo, Chris lolled bonelessly into the seat, humming softly.

‘How much did you drink?’ Trip asked him incredulously. He seemed to have gone from chirpily merry to almost incapable within the space of an hour.

‘Dunno. Some. They kept appearing. Thought it was Diet Coke. Tasted li’ had somethin’ in.’

‘You’re telling me it had something in...’ Trip let out a laugh, rubbing affectionately at Chris’ thigh. ‘You’ll have a headache in the morning, sweetie.’

Chris’ reply was no more than a grunt as his head rolled to one side.

Trip watched him with concern, wondering if he should keep him awake or something.

‘Where we going back to?’ the driver’s voiced crackled in overhead.

Trip thought quickly. It had better be Chris’ place. There was no way he was going to be able to get Chris up the stairs to his own apartment. He told the driver.

Chris stirred, hearing the voices.

‘You stay?’ he murmured, his head flopping to the other side and his eyes opening slightly.

‘Of course I’ll stay. I’m not leaving you alone like this.’ Trip brushed Chris’ bangs from his forehead and stroked his face tenderly. ‘You’re beautiful when you’re drunk.’

Chris grunted incoherently and closed his eyes once more.

***

When they arrived at Chris’ apartment building, they were met in the parking garage by Desi and Boots, who seemed to have been there for a while. Trip climbed out of the car, leaving Chris asleep.

‘Dani said to tell you bye and to give you this.’ Boots handed Trip Chris’ jacket.

‘Thanks. Uh... Chris is...’ Trip gestured ineffectually towards the car.

‘Shitfaced?’ Boots suggested.

Trip laughed ‘Yeah, that’s about right. If you can help me get him outta the car, I’ll take him upstairs.’

Boots nodded and squeezed his massive frame into the limo, returning a few moments later with an almost inert Chris. Somehow they got him out of the car and standing beside Trip, supported with an arm around his waist. Trip had their two jackets over his other arm. Desi delved into his pocket and brought out Trip’s phone and keys, prompting Boots to do the same with Chris’. Trip looked rather bewildered.

‘Um... I’ve kinda run out of hands. Desi, could you...’

‘I’ll take ‘em.’ Boots cut in. ‘My guy’s the one who needs watching.’ He nodded at Desi who bade them goodnight, slammed the limo door shut and returned to his SUV. Boots went over to the elevator and pressed the button. As they waited for it to arrive, Trip watched in wonder as the limo driver artfully turned her vehicle around in the cramped space and followed Desi out of the garage.

Chris had begun to moan softly as they manoeuvred him into the elevator. 

‘Don’t feel so good.’ He muttered as it lurched to a halt on Chris’ floor. Boots stepped ahead of them and unlocked the apartment door with the keys he was still holding. He pushed the door wide open and deposited two phones and two sets of keys on the small table just inside.

‘You gonna be OK?’ he asked Trip as he made to leave.

‘Yeah, we’ll be fine. Thanks Boots.’

‘No problem. G’night.’

‘’night’

Boots pulled the door closed after himself and Trip caught his breath. He hefted Chris a little more upright as he decided what to do next. The staircase up to Chris’ bedroom seemed like a bad idea so he began to guide Chris over to the couch.

‘Feel sick’ Chris announced with clarity.

‘OK, baby, hold on just a moment’ Trip shovelled him towards the sink in the laundry as swiftly as he could manage. The second Chris felt the edge of it beneath his fingers he leaned over and vomited copiously.

‘OK, it’s OK, get it out... I’ve got you.’ Trip held Chris’ shoulders as he retched several more times, his whole body heaving.

Eventually, after coughing and spluttering some more, Chris raised his head a little and groaned.

‘Ohhhhh, fuck.’

His eyes were streaming and his face deathly pale, a string of saliva hanging from his lip. Trip reached up to the drying rack over his head and managed to pull down a small towel. He handed it to Chris who wiped his eyes and mouth and straightened up a little.

‘Fuuuck’ he repeated, as if the point needed emphasising further.

‘Better?’ Trip asked, unable to stop a slight smile from curling the edge of his mouth.

‘Bit. My head hurts. Need a drink. A water drink.’ Chris spoke in staccato phrases, still struggling to articulate clearly.

Come and sit down and I’ll fix you a glass of water. You got any Tylenol?’

Yeah, bathroom cabinet.’ Chris replied, hobbling unsteadily towards the sofa.

Trip helped him to sit down, snuggling a cushion beside him as he leaned to one side.

‘Wait there.’ Trip said, heading for the little kitchen area.

‘Not gonna move’ Chris replied.

Trip found a clean glass and filled it with water from a bottle in the fridge. He took it over to Chris who gratefully began sipping at it.

‘Drink it slowly’ Trip advised as he headed up the stairs towards the bathroom.

He found the Tylenol and took it back down to Chris who was looking bleary-eyed and sorry for himself.

‘Feel stupid.’ He said quietly.

‘No need. We all do it from time to time, sweetie.’

‘But I coulda made such an idiot of myself. Did I make an idiot of myself? Please say I didn’t. Was Dani mad?’ Chris’ brow furrowed and he buried his face in his hand.

‘No, you didn’t, Dani wasn’t mad. It’s OK. You’re allowed to be human.’ Trip stroked his leg.

‘No, I’m not. I’m a slebrity, I have to be good. People take pictures...’ Chris’ face began to crumple and Trip’s heart contracted painfully at the sight.

‘I can’t afford to be human. Not allowed. Lots of kids look up t’me. Shouldn’ get drunk.’ Suddenly Chris’ eyes spilled over and he began sobbing with such a passion that Trip just reached out and held him, rocking him and murmuring words of comfort into his trembling shoulder.

‘Hey, hey, it’s OK! You didn’t do anything wrong, baby! You’re fine, you just drank a bit too much is all..’ 

Chris continued to sob messily into Trip’s embrace, bemoaning his behaviour, his ruined image, projecting the collapse of his entire career based on one brief, drunken night. Trip had experienced enough nights like this of his own and nursed enough friends through similar to realise that it was still the alcohol talking and that the remorse would ease by morning. In a few weeks, it would be all but forgotten and they would, no doubt, be out again having a few drinks in a bar somewhere.

For now though, Trip held him and comforted him, countered all Chris’ wild catastrophising scenarios and dried his eyes when the sobbing began to ease.

‘I love you so much.’ Chris sniffled as he hiccupped his way out of the emotional tempest.

‘I love you too.’ Trip stroked his back soothingly. ‘Shall we go on up to bed?’

He slowly helped Chris to his feet and they made their unsteady way up the stairs, Chris holding tight to the banister rail for support. When they got to the top, Trip gently began to undress him, fetching a washer from the bathroom to wipe his blotchy face and helping him to rinse his mouth with mouthwash, spitting it into the toothmug Trip held for him.

As he got himself undressed, he let Chris ramble on semi-coherently from the bed.

‘I’m really nice, really. I don’t mean to say bad things to you. I don’t mean to hurt you, I love you, I was so worried when you were in hospital, I felt sick. When I found out you... I didn’t care... well, I did but in a good way... or a it-didn’t-make-a-difference way... you treat me like I’m just normal... like any other guy... You make me feel so good... I’m so proud to be with you... you make it easy to just let go... s’why I got drunk... I was just me, not needing to act, I don’t drink usually... can’t risk losing control... Dani says it’s not a good idea... too messy to clear up... but I wanna... I wanna just have fun with you... it was so nice in the mountains... not having to worry... I’d been so scared of... who it might be... whether I could trust someone... y’know... it’d make a great story... ‘I snagged celebrity Chris’ big v...’ I thought I’d never... no-one...’ Chris’ voice began to hitch a little, more tiredly now. Trip lay down beside him and pulled the comforter over them both as he leaned over and stopped Chris’ mouth with a kiss.

‘I promise you I will never kiss and tell. I have as much to lose in a different kind of way. I adore you for treating me like just a normal guy, allowing me to just let go, to be myself. I will always look after you and never let you embarrass yourself in public and take care of you when we get home and make love with you forever and ever and ever...’

Trip finished his speech and gazed down at Chris in sheer adoration. Chris sleepily blinked back up at him and touched a finger to Trip’s lips.

‘Stay with me, Trip. Will you?’

‘Always.’


	57. Chapter 57

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't keep motivated unless you tell me what you think. Post comments or you don't get the end of the story. Grr.

Part Fifty-Seven

Trip was right. Chris had a terrible headache the following day. They slept right through the morning and late into the afternoon. Had anyone tried to contact either of them they would never have known as both their phones remained on the table by the front door. 

In any case, neither was really in a fit state to care.

Chris’ tousled head emerged from the covers.

‘Uhhhh. Ugh. I feel horrible.’ He croaked.

Trip pushed impatiently at the pillow which was threatening to smother him.

‘Not surprising.’

‘Remind me never to drink again.’

‘Never drink again, Chris.’

‘Thanks.’

Once Trip had woken up a little, he clambered out of bed and, grabbing Chris’ robe from the back of the bathroom door, he bumbled downstairs in search of tea. He couldn’t even face coffee today.

He ratched through the cupboards in the kitchen until he turned up a half-empty packet of Earl Grey. It would have to do, he decided.

He washed out two mugs which looked as though they had been sitting on the counter for several days. Once the kettle had boiled, he rinsed them again with the boiling water, just in case.

‘Here you go, beautiful.’ He announced breezily as he reached the top of the stairs.

‘Urghhh. Fuck off with your chirpy morning manner.’ Chris growled, burrowing back under the comforter.

‘That’s chirpy afternoon manner and I have tea.’ Trip ignored the thumping in his own head and persisted in being upbeat.

‘Ohhh, you’re an angel.’ Chris reappeared as Trip rounded the end of the bed and placed the cup down on the nightstand.

‘Yeah. I am.’ Trip leant down and placed a kiss on Chris’ chaotic hair.

‘Uh. Don’t get close. My breath smells terrible.’ Chris leaned away.

‘I know. I love you anyway.’ Trip smiled as he picked up the pack of painkillers from the table by his side of the bed, popping two for himself and two for Chris.

‘Here.’

‘Thanks. Tea and Tylenol. Breakfast of heroes.’ Chris swallowed the tablets and sipped his tea.

There was a pause while they both attempted to gather their thoughts and remember what had happened the previous night. Trip remembered all too well, Chris was struggling to recall anything much from their time in the club.

He took a breath as though he was about to ask something. Then he snapped his mouth shut and thought some more.

‘What?’ Trip asked him, breathing the fragrant aroma from his mug.

‘I was just wondering how come I got so drunk?’ Chris ruffled his hair with a puzzled look on his face. ‘I didn’t have all that much Champagne at the premiere and I can’t have had more than two or three drinks at the club. You think someone spiked them?’

Trip had vaguely considered the possibility himself.

‘I would have thought Dani or Boots or someone would have noticed if they did.’ He mused, sensibly.

‘Yeah. I guess.’ Chris sighed again, grateful for the fact that his headache was beginning to ease with the painkillers and fluid intake.

‘It wasn’t one of my better ideas, huh?’ Chris smiled wryly at Trip.

‘What, the club?’

‘Yeah.’

‘It was fine.’ Trip took another mouthful of tea.

‘You hated it.’

‘No, I didn’t! I said it was fine. I’m just used to places that are a bit more... relaxed? More... accepting. Less stuffed full of celebrities and fans. And hangers on. ‘

Chris nodded.

‘That sounds nice. Next time we’ll go to your choice of nightspot.’ 

Trip snorted contemptuously. ‘I’m not entirely sure Dani or Boots will let you play out in my choice of nightspot!’

‘Oooh, now I’m intrigued! What kind of places do you frequent, then? Illicit moonshine bars?’ Chris chuckled at the image he’d just created in his own head: an unholy combination of the speakeasy from Bugsy Malone and a photo of an S & M club he’d seen on the internet.

‘No, just not so... polished as that place last night. Probably more dangerous people from a bodyguard’s point of view.’

‘And last night’s lot weren’t the absolute epitome of a load of sharks circling for the kill, huh?’ Chris shook his head.

‘I guess it depends on how you look at it. Maybe I’m just cautious about how most of the world views people I consider to be perfectly ordinary.’ Trip placed his empty mug on the bedside table and began nibbling at a piece of dry skin on the side of his thumb.

Chris gently pushed Trip’s hand away from his mouth and wrapped his fingers around it as they rested together on the covers.

‘People like you?’ Chris asked. Trip nodded as Chris went on:

‘People like me?’ 

He paused as Trip was about to reply and then carried on: ‘Gay guys who just want to have fun and spend time kicking back in an environment where they won’t get hassled?’

Trip had been about to argue that the people in the clubs he frequented were about as far from Chris as could be imagined but when he put it like that...

‘Yeah. OK, point taken. Let’s leave it a while though, eh? I think your liver could probably use a rest.’

‘True. What about you? You weren’t that drunk last night, were you?’

Trip snuffled. ‘Drunk enough to ask Dani to dance. I kinda had to sober up quite quickly, though.’ 

‘Sorry. Guess that was on my account.’ Chris downed the last of his tea.

‘No apology necessary.’ Trip leaned over and kissed Chris’ cheek, dabbing him on the nose as he pulled away. ‘You are a cute drunk.’

‘I didn’t feel too cute.’ Chris stuck out his tongue.

‘Understandable.’ Trip threw back the bedcovers and began to head towards the bathroom. Chris watched him as he moved away.

‘You do have the most adorable ass...’ he observed.

‘Thank you.’ Trip still felt that little twist of self-consciousness whenever Chris complemented him on his body. Despite having finally shared and shown himself completely, he wasn’t 100 percent happy about doing so. Chris was always unflinchingly open and genuinely seemed unfazed by what Trip automatically viewed as his imperfections. Slowly Trip had begun to accept that his physicality was only a small part of what attracted Chris to him and slowly he was becoming more comfortable about Chris seeing him naked, touching the most intimate parts of him. 

Slowly.

He’d still slept in his underwear and compression top last night and he badly needed a shower. 

As he stood beneath the hot torrent that poured from the shower head, the incident with the egg came back to him. That and the realisation that he’d have to either wear the tux home again or borrow something of Chris’. 

As he lathered his body and ran his hands over himself he thought back to the conversation with the surgeon. It was pretty much a daily rerun now, the list of pros and cons. Feeling the parts of him that just weren’t right triggered the mental turmoil. It was getting a bit wearing, frankly. Trip cleared his throat as if to announce something aloud. But he clamped his mouth firmly shut as he resolved to call Marco later in the evening and explore the work possibilities. Perhaps another six months of stunt work would put the matter more clearly in his mind. Now really wasn’t the time to extend his break from employment further still.

There came a muffled knock on the door.

‘You OK in there?’ Chris’ called from outside the door.

Trip realised that he’d just been letting his thoughts ramble on as the shower poured over him. Time to take action, time to seize control of his life again.

Time to let Chris have the shower.

‘Yeah, sorry. Zoned out for a bit there.’ Trip wrapped Chris’ robe around himself again as he opened the door and let the steam swirl out and into the bedroom.

‘You leave me any hot water?’ Chris grumbled.

‘Probably not.’ Trip grinned smugly, knowing full well that the water system heated on demand and that he could have showered for three hours without it running out.

‘C’n I borrow some clothes?’ Trip asked as he towelled off his hair.

‘Sure, help yourself.’ Chris pointed at the built-in wardrobes filling an entire wall.

Trip slid back the mirrored doors and selected a pair of jeans, a grey and black striped tee shirt and an innocuous looking grey sweater. Then, almost as an afterthought he fished a pair of branded boxer briefs from a drawer unit within the wardrobe. Slipping them on, he felt the strangest thrill in the base of his stomach. A mixture of that cosy feeling of wearing a lover’s clothes and the frisson of what had previously been accommodated in those briefs...

Jeez, he should really just stop thinking today.

Shaking his head, Trip threw on the rest of Chris’ clothes, rolling the jeans up by a couple of inches and picking a pair of clean socks from the drawer almost as an afterthought. His blisters were still sore on the backs of his heels.

He padded down the stairs and caught sight of the heap of phones and keys on the table by the door. Reaching for his cellphone, he checked the messages. Two texts from Dani asking if they were both OK this morning. One from Desi wondering if he was needed today and a missed call from Marco. Trip tried to return the call but it went straight to voicemail. He was probably out somewhere with Bev. Unless they were working, Saturday afternoons and evenings had always been their sacrosanct time together. 

As he texted back to Dani and Desi to tell them all was fine, he heard the water shut off above him and the bathroom door open.

‘You want some toast?’ Trip called up to Chris who was towelling himself dry at the top of the stairs.

‘Yes please. I’m starving!’

‘After that can you give me a ride home?’

‘Sure thing.’

There were precisely two slices of bread and a heel left in Chris’ fridge. As he waited for them to grill, Trip pondered how difficult it must be for Chris to simply pop out to the store to fetch essentials. Some days it probably seemed preferable to starve rather than face the public. 

He hoped fervently that his own growing celebrity wouldn’t ever affect his ability to live a reasonably normal life. Hot on the heels of that hope came a crashing sense of sheer irony.

‘What d’you want on it?’ he bellowed up the stairs.

***


	58. Chapter 58

Part Fifty-Eight

Chris drove Trip home just as it was getting dark and they agreed to spend the rest of the weekend at their own apartments sorting out the everyday chores that had slipped by the wayside. 

As he got to the top of the flights of stairs, Trip felt his phone vibrating in his pocket.

‘Yello!’ he answered, seeing that it was Marco calling him. Fumbling his keys with one hand and holding his phone with the other, he let himself into the apartment and switched on the lights.

‘How was the movie?’ Marco asked as Trip moved through into the living room and pulled the curtains closed.

‘Yeah, good. You know me, hypercritical of everything I do. And anyone else does, for that matter.’

Marco snorted a laugh on the other end.

‘Have fun at the club?’ Marco sounded as though he was smiling.

‘Oh, you heard about that did you?’ Trip replied, realising after a beat that he’d probably not only heard about it but seen the pictures, the video footage...

‘Yeah. I heard.’

‘Well, you’ll be glad to know that we both paid for it with awful hangovers which are only just now beginning to ease.’ Trip threw himself down on the couch an immediately wished he’d been a little more sedate.

‘Good, good.’ Marco was laughing. ‘Uh, Trip, I had a call from Bill at SAGA yesterday. You planning on going to the awards this year?’

Trip really wasn’t sure he wanted to attend another sparkling evening. Even if it was in celebration of those in his own profession.

‘Uh, I dunno.’ Trip havered.

He’d been to the Stunt Actors’ Guild of America’s awards ceremony several times in the past. They weren’t particularly glamorous and certainly weren’t covered by the media in the way more mainstream film and TV awards events were, but the food was good and he got to talk to others in the profession. However, Trip was still unsure that a night of smiling and making nice was what he wanted right now, hot on the heels of the premiere.

‘Well, I think Bill’d like you to be there this year.’ Marco replied.

Trip nodded with dawning understanding. His notoriety-by-association had raised the profile of stunt actors in general and the Guild wanted to ride that particular wave by having him on board.

‘Oh, OK. Bill wants me to be Poster Boy this year, does he?’ Trip hauled himself back off the sofa and went to put the kettle on.

‘That’s a bit harsh, Trip. He’s not like that, c’mon.’ Marco had been friends with Bill Lee, the founder of the Guild since they had trained together. He was right, Bill wasn’t quite that exploitative. 

Trip’s presence at the event probably wouldn’t do it any harm, though.

‘When is it?’ Trip asked, lifting a calendar down from a nail on the kitchen wall.

‘December fifth.’ Marco replied.

Trip turned the page over and found the date.

‘OK. I’ll come. But only if I’m on a table with you and Bev. And only if...’ he paused, uncertain if Chris would even be able to attend such a low-key event. Trip knew of actors whose promotions people actually banned them from attending the ‘wrong sort’ of functions if it was felt their images wouldn’t benefit.

‘Chris can come, of course he can come. You can bring whoever you like.’ Marco had filled in the gaps and sounded puzzled. 

‘I was thinking that it might not be up to me.’

‘Oh, I see what you mean. Yeah. Well, ask him.’ Marco got it immediately.

‘OK, I will. Hey, Marco, any news on the work situation?’ 

Real subtle, Trip thought.

‘Oh yeah, that was partly why I called earlier.’

Trip’s shoulders began to relax as Marco filled him in on a short-term role in the sci-fi pilot Bev had spoken about a while back. It would be easy, physically speaking, a gentle way for Trip to get back into work and a bit of extra money which would help out in the run up to Christmas.

After running through the details, Marco asked

‘You coming to ours for Thanksgiving?’ 

‘Am I invited?’

‘Of course! As is Chris, if he can come. If he can’t, we’ll have to settle for just you...’

It was Trip’s turn to laugh now. Thanksgiving at Bev and Marco’s was always a riot. They seemed to sweep up all the Hollywood misfits from the fields of make-up, hair, stunt acting and several other professions. Their circle of friends and associates was wide and diverse and always made for interesting conversation at their parties. Trip had spent one Thanksgiving chatting to a woman who hired reptiles to film producers to use in movies. He recalled that she’d spent the evening with a tiny yellow snake coiled around her throat that he’d thought was a necklace until he saw it flick its tongue out.

Plus, Bev made the most incredible desserts imaginable. Pumpkin pie was the least of it.

‘I’ll be there. Is it fancy dress this year?’

‘I’ll have to check that one for you. Bev’ll be glad you can make it.’

They said their goodbyes and Trip rang off. His head had begun to hurt again and he was ready to get some more sleep. The very mention of getting back to work had made him want to get his daily routine sorted and in place once more. Bed at a reasonable hour, gym in the morning and, most importantly, laying off the alcohol. He very rarely drank during the period of a contract. Thinking over this self-imposed rule and the result of the last time he’d broken it made him resolve to keep to it for the short term of his forthcoming contract. Even if Thanksgiving did fall right in the middle of it.

He decided against the cup of tea he’d begun to make, opting instead for a glass of orange juice and some carrot sticks from a bag in the crisper drawer of the fridge. He felt hungry but not particularly inclined to eat.

Padding towards the bedroom, Trip decided to turn in for the night. All his good resolutions could wait till the morning. He dumped his borrowed clothes on the floor, and slid naked beneath the covers, pausing for a few minutes to text Chris a goodnight message as he always did when they slept apart, before switching off the light and stretching luxuriantly across the whole bed. Chris’ reply came right back, punctuated with a little heart and a smiley face. Trip looked fondly at the illuminated screen in the darkness and then put the phone down and stretched out once more.

A dog barked somewhere in the night.


	59. Chapter 59

Part Fifty-Nine

October was over and November was proving to be grey and more humid than usual for an LA fall. It wasn’t sunny and warm, it was dull and sticky: an unpleasant combination, especially if one was working physically very hard.

Trip loathed it. 

The sci-fi pilot was on a closed set, painted mostly white and lit to blinding levels. The multitudinous numbers of stunt actors, many of whom were little people and thus requiring particular accommodations, meant that all facilities were shared. The low budget didn’t stretch to more than a couple of rotary fans to move the torpid air around and everyone was wearing quilted suits.

Still, Trip reflected as he waited patiently for his next instruction, at least he was working.

Since the premiere, Chris and he had seen each other on weekends only; Trip felt it better if he devoted himself wholeheartedly to his job during the week. Since the director’s vision far outweighed both his experience and ability, Trip found himself still on-set until late into the night, often without having actually done anything all day. But, a contract was a contract and his bound him until mid-December.

Chris and he had celebrated Hallowe’en at a comparatively quiet ‘Classic Horror’ themed party with some of Chris’ friends. They had dressed as Frankenstein and his Bride, but only after much delicate footwork on Chris’ part to ensure the suggestion wouldn’t be misinterpreted. And only after Chris agreed to be the Bride. 

Thanksgiving was creeping up on them, followed by the SAGA Awards evening. Chris was spending Thanksgiving at home with his family. Trip had been invited but, though torn, he eventually decided to keep his arrangement with Marco and Bev. Chris had, however, seemed delighted to have been asked to accompany Trip to the Awards event. He accepted immediately, waving away Trip’s doubts about what Dani might think with a flick of his hand. It had almost seemed as though Chris knew what Trip was going to ask; he hadn’t even called Dani to check. Trip hadn’t let it worry him unduly, he was just glad Chris would be there with him.

***

A week before Thanksgiving, Chris had just arrived at Trip’s apartment on Friday night, ready to spend the weekend. They had fallen into an easy arrangement of alternating where they spent their weekends. They hadn’t completely fallen off the media radar, but their relationship had ceased to offer new photo opportunities so they weren’t bothered by photographers as much. The fans came and went and were usually content with an autograph, a photo and a moment’s banal conversation. 

‘Hi honey, I’m home!’ Chris called cheerfully as he let himself in.

‘I’m in the bathroom, washing off the space dust.’ Trip replied, towelling off his hair. 

Chris nosed round the edge of the door.

‘Hey,’ he smiled, leaning in to peck Trip on the shoulder.

‘Hey’ Trip emerged from the towel and landed a kiss on Chris’ lips. ‘Have a good day?’

‘Yes, actually. Some good news...’ Chris was enigmatic.

‘Oh? You gonna tell me?’

‘When you’re done. Too steamy in here. Open a window or something, I’m gonna get a drink.’ Chris disappeared from the doorway and headed for the kitchen, dropping his overnight bag in the bedroom on the way.

He pulled a cold beer from Trip’s fridge and popped the top, letting it plink onto the counter and leaving it there. He was secretly pleased to see that Trip had a bottle of Champagne still in the bottom of the fridge. 

They might just need it tonight.

Trip emerged from the bathroom in faded black sweats and a grey tee shirt that looked as though it had been run over by a truck. Several times.

Chris put his beer down on the counter as Trip approached, his breath taken momentarily by the sight of Trip looking dishevelled and scruffy and relaxed.

‘God, you look gorgeous.’ He breathed.

‘Thanks, but...’ Trip ducked his head as usual, still unsure of what to do with such comments.

‘C’mere’ Chris pulled him into an embrace, kissing his damp hair and forehead. He could feel Trip’s nipples grazing his chest through the fabric of both their shirts but knew better than to point it out right now. Plenty of time for that later.

‘Wanna beer?’ Chris held out his own.

‘Mmmm, yeah.’ Trip reached for the fridge door and opened it. ‘Need to get some more.’ He observed as he pulled a bottle out. 

‘So what’s your news?’ Trip asked after taking a long swallow from the bottle.

‘Ah. Well, I had a few meetings this week, remember?’

Trip nodded ‘Yeah, I remember, how’d they go?’

Chris hadn’t exactly been cagey about the meetings but he felt that letting too much information out might jinx things so Trip had only the basics.

‘Well, it seems there’s this proposal for a new series, kind of an update of ‘Thirtysomething’, y’know? That eighties show?’

Trip nodded. ‘Yeah, I’ve heard of it.’

Chris went on ‘It’s kind of mockmentary-drama mixed with ‘Friends’ but with a mainly older cast... a really solid cast...’ Chris nodded his head as he considered ‘...and they’ve asked me to play one of the regulars!’

‘Wow! Weekly?’

‘Twice weekly’

‘That’s amazing! Congratulations, hun!’ Trip grabbed Chris in a bearhug and almost wrestled him down in his enthusiasm.

‘Thanks!’

‘But you aren’t thirtysomething!’ Trip pulled back, looking perplexed.

‘No, there’s some older, some younger. They want to get the full cross section, y’know: couple of gay guys, black family, disabled woman. But it works, it really does! It somehow it doesn’t seem as contrived as it looks...’

‘...and you’re playing one of the gay guys?’

‘Yes. Marcus. Who lives with his older partner... husband... they’re getting that in there too.’ Chris added, referring to California’s still fairly recent marriage equality legislation.

‘That is so fucking cool! You are so fucking cool!’ Trip clinked his beer bottle against Chris’ and ran his left hand down Chris’ shoulder and arm. ‘I am so proud of you.’

‘You won’t mind me being married to another guy?’ Chris looked out archly through his eyelashes.

‘Is he cute?’

Chris revealed the name of the well-known actor playing his on-screen husband.

‘Fuuuuck! You’re gonna be married to him? I’d say that’s a major score! He’s straight, right?’

‘As a die. Married with teenage kids last time I checked.’ Chris smiled.

‘Wow. Kinda brave of him, taking a role like that.’ Trip said thoughtfully.

‘It’s a job, y’know. I was talking to him over coffee and he said he hadn’t done much since turning forty. Oh, and since gaining a few pounds...’

‘He’s larded up?’ Trip grinned.

‘It looks good on him, I gotta say...’

‘No, you don’t gotta say. I don’t want you telling me anything about your on-screen husband being hot, okay?!’ 

‘I didn’t say he was hot...!’ Chris wailed in protest at the implied accusation and grabbed Trip for a hug.

Trip laughed and pretended to be reluctant. In reality, he couldn’t have been happier at Chris’ news. A regular job was a true gift to any actor. 

And a real achievement.

‘They got a trans character in there?’ Trip asked when they’d both returned to leaning on the counter.

‘Yeah, a woman. I haven’t met her but they were adamant about the part being played by a trans actor. That caused a bit of trouble.’

‘Oh, why?’ Trip swigged the last of his beer and set the bottle down beside him.

‘I think just getting the right person. They had a lot of performers but very few actors.’

Trip nodded. Even amongst his own transgendered friends and acquaintances, the women often seemed larger than life and the men much more reticent. 

‘Yeah, I can understand that.’ He replied. ‘So, we gonna celebrate? You wanna go out someplace for dinner?’

Chris looked at him wearily.

‘Actually, d’you mind if we just get takeout and celebrate here? You’re the only one I wanna share this with right now and I’m pretty beat.’

Trip didn’t mind at all.

‘Course not. We can open the bubbly in the bottom of the fridge. What d’you fancy? Chinese? Pizza? Thai?’

‘Ooh, Thai! Can we order from that place that does the sculpted carrots and stuff? And the jasmine rice?’ Chris perked up significantly.

‘Of course, for you, my fully employed actor boyfriend, anything!’ He lifted the cordless phone down from the wall and pulled a magnet off the fridge door. 

‘So what d’you want?’ he asked, as Chris perused the menu.

Chris took a deep, anticipatory breath as he began to choose.


	60. Chapter 60

Part Sixty

Trip pushed cautiously at Bev and Marco’s front door. It seemed to have been wedged partially open with something but rather than it making it easier for guests to let themselves in, it actually made it almost impossible to squeeze through the tiny gap.

Music was already thundering throughout the house. There were speakers fitted in every downstairs room which, Trip recalled, would usually be piping country music softly around the house all day long. It had gotten to the point when he was living there that he just didn’t notice it any more. Tonight though, the lively pop music just highlighted the celebratory atmosphere.

The little house was already rammed full of people. Many looked to be in fancy dress though no dress code had been specified. Everyone seemed to be clutching a disposable cup full of drink of one sort or another and many seemed to have been imbibing for quite some time, if their glazed expressions were anything to go on. 

Trip took a deep breath and slid round the edge of the door. He pushed past the guests to the dining room where a buffet of unimaginable breadth was spread out. He spotted Bev’s signature cranberry-stuffed turkey slices and at least four separate pumpkin pies, each of a different design and shade of orange: gifts from friends, he guessed.

Moving through into the kitchen, he found Bev and greeted her with a kiss, waving the six-pack he’d brought in the direction of the fridge.

‘It’s full, love.’ Bev shook her head. ‘Too much beer!’

‘Oh well.’ Trip shrugged and pulled a can from the pack. Usually he preferred bottles to cans but at a party a can was less trouble and easier to open.

‘So who’s here this year?’ he asked Bev as he turned around.

‘Oh, I dunno. I always forget who I’ve invited! There’s some nice people in the den.’ Bev offered, obviously a little tipsy already.

‘Anyone I know?’ Trip asked.

‘Paul and Dean from next door, some people from the sci-fi catastrophe, Kelly and her new boyfriend... oh, d’you know Simeon who does prosthetics?’ Bev had sensed a link somewhere, she grabbed Trip by the elbow and propelled him into the next room. Suddenly very alert, she scanned the crowd until she located her quarry.

‘Simeon, I’d like you to meet Trip, Trip, Simeon’s our new prosthetics guy, there’s nothing he doesn’t know about space-dwarf noses...’

By the time Trip and Simeon had shaken hands and regained the power of speech after Bev’s introduction, she had vanished into the crowd, all of whom towered over her by at least a foot.

‘So, space noses, huh? That’s quite a specialist area...’ Trip began with a grin.

Simeon’s dark brown eyes sparkled.

‘Yeah, I studied them for years. Got a diploma in space noses and another in hobbit ears and feet.’

Trip laughed. It was going to be an OK night after all.

‘So really, this pilot looking as awful from a prosthetics point of view as it is from a stunt actor’s point of view?’

Simeon shook his curls as he laughed. ‘It’s an unusual brief, that’s for sure.’

He looked Trip up and down. ‘So you do stunt work?’

‘Yeah, that’s right.’

‘Pretty scary, huh?’

‘You get used to it. Mostly it’s in the planning. If it’s all thought through properly then actually doing the stunt is the easy bit.’ Trip took another swallow from his can.

‘I couldn’t imagine doing what you guys do. I’m happy sculpting away at my bench with a nice cup of herbal tea.’

‘So what’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever had to make?’ Trip asked, glancing briefly over Simeon’s shoulder as he spotted Desi coming in. 

‘Uh, my penis, actually.’

Simeon was fixing him with a half amused, half challenging look.

Trip wondered if he should pursue the matter.

‘Oh...?’

Simeon giggled, a huge smile breaking across his face. ‘I’m sorry, I do that sometimes just to freak people out, see how they react. I really shouldn’t.’

‘So, how d’you mean...?’ Trip was getting interested now.

‘Well, I’m transgender: coercively female assigned at birth and so I don’t have my own dick, naturally, so it made sense if I just went right ahead and designed one.’

Simeon drank from the red plastic cup he was holding as Trip stared at him, speechless.

Simeon went on ‘You’re shocked, right? You couldn’t tell by looking? And Oh my God, that’s freaky that he’s made his own penis and is standing here at this party telling me about it like he’s discussing building an extension onto the house....’

‘I... er...’ Trip stammered.

‘Look, it’s cool, you can ask me about it. Lots of people are curious, I’m happy to answer questions. I figure that’s the way to break down the ignorance that leads to prejudice.’

‘Yeah, I agree. Er... what’s it made of?’ Trip mentally facepalmed at his own question but he’d been so stunned by Simeon’s disclosure and by the fact that the guy didn’t seem to have any idea of what they had in common.

‘It’s medical grade silicone. I cast it from a friend’s and then did a few modifications, made a mold, cast it, colored it and bingo!’

‘Wait... you cast a friend’s dick?’ Trip had skipped way beyond the point of Oh, by the way, me too.

Simeon grinned broadly again. ‘Well, see, that’s not actually as weird as it sounds. We prosthetic artists cast lots of bits of people, we have professionals who do it, unless it’s for a specific actor. In those cases, we have to cast it from them so whatever it is fits them...’

He paused to take a breath.

‘Like hobbit ears?’ Trip interjected.

‘Exactly. So anyway, this friend of mine does lots of stuff for me and we just got drunk and did it.’ Simeon leaned in conspiratorially ‘I kind of needed to scale things down a little to suit me.’

Trip suppressed a laugh.

‘Can I ask... it’s kinda personal...’ Trip was completely hooked and had fully grasped now why Bev had been so eager to introduce him to Simeon.

‘Sure! I have nothing to hide... you wanna see it?’

‘No! I mean... no thanks, I was going to ask if you can pee through it? Is it an STP?’

Simeon gave him a sideways glance.

‘You seem to know a bit about this stuff... There’s not many who know that term.’

It was Trip’s turn to grin.

‘Yeah. I have a certain amount of experience in the field.’

Simeon looked at him closely, squinting.

‘Er...You know someone or you know of someone or...’

‘...I am someone.’ Trip finished for him.

‘No! Seriously?’ Simeon looked genuinely amazed and whether it was put-on or not, it gave Trip a glow of pride. He definitely liked this guy.

‘Yeah. Seriously.’ Trip drank from his can, watching Simeon look him over once again.

‘Wow, dude. I’m impressed. I’m usually pretty good but I had no idea. None at all. Shit, I feel a bit stupid now.’

‘No, don’t. I’m really flattered. And besides, I think I may have a little job for you. Well, not too little a job..!’

Simeon caught his meaning and the innuendo and laughed, his broad grin returning.

‘You want me to make you one?’

‘I’d like you to make me two, actually.’

Simeon goggled his dark eyes in mock amazement.

‘Jeez, guy. That’s just greedy. People will wonder what you’re smuggling down there!’

Trip laughed along with him for a minute.

‘No. One for everyday and one for play.’

Simeon nodded and finished his drink.

‘I’m actually developing a pack ‘n’ play. I just need to get the right... uh... material for the rod. See, it needs to be hollow, to enable the STP function and also sufficiently bendy but rigid as well. Hey, wanna help me test out prototypes?’ 

Trip found his heart fluttering with excitement. This guy’s enthusiasm was so infectious!

‘Yeah, that’d be fun.’ Trip’s face suddenly clouded ‘Oh, you don’t mean with...’

‘No! Not with me! Sorry, I didn’t make myself clear. No, I’m straight. I meant, y’know, if you have someone... I didn’t mean to assume... shit. I just run away with myself. I am SO sorry!’

Trip clapped a hand on Simeon’s shoulder. ‘Cut that out! It’s fine, I get it, it’s cool. I’d really like to help you out with this. I have someone. I’m sure he’d like to help me with the... research and development!’

‘You’re gay? That’s awesome! I was wondering how I’d make sure it was, y’know, suitable for all kinds of use. I don’t usually get into...’ Simeon cut himself off, as if realising he was wading into the waters of Too Much Information. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t really have boundaries.’ He grinned a little shamefacedly.

Trip had never hit it off so quickly with someone before, not a guy, anyway. He thought it might be simply because Simeon was so forthright and open. He was just so damn proud of what he was and so excited by all the apparent opportunities it offered him in his chosen line of work.

‘Look, Simeon, you just go ahead. I never met anyone who was so cool with their trans status before, don’t stop on my account. It’s really refreshing to meet someone who’s not all tangled up in dysphoria and angst.’

Simeon waved a hand.

‘Pfff! I don’t have time for that dysphoria shit. I’m a work in progress, everyone is. You don’t get on with a bit of yourself? You work on that part or you work on your view of it. After that, you can start adding the toys or taking the bumps away. Life’s too short and too precious, man. Jeez...’

Trip nodded. ‘You’re so right. I can ask you stuff, right?’ 

Simeon nodded vigorously. ‘Yeah, man...’

‘About surgery..?’ Trip was hesitant. It was an area fraught with difficulty. You didn’t just wade in and ask...

‘Had my top done two years ago, double incision, one revision, all great. Hardly notice the scars now. Don’t wanna get the bottom done. Too much fun making prosthetic cocks!’ He puffed out his eminently flat chest and then waggled his groin lewdly.

They both laughed easily.

‘You want another drink?’ Trip asked, gesturing towards the kitchen.

‘Yeah, can I steal one of yours? That keg stuff tastes like piss.’

‘Sure. Back in a sec.’

Trip made his way back to the kitchen, passing Bev as she held court by the table in the dining room. Everyone seemed to be eating all of a sudden.

As he paused to stuff a slice of turkey into his mouth, Bev sidled up and bumped her hip against his.  
‘You boys getting along OK?’

‘Yes, Bev. You are truly the hostess with the mostest.’ Trip replied incredulously.

‘Gotta keep my boys happy.’ She smiled, pushing him away and turning back to the table.

Trip grabbed the remaining cans of beer and headed back to where Simeon was waiting, picking up a plate containing half a ravaged pumpkin pie on the way. 

They were going to need something to snack on if they were going to spend the evening spilling their whole life stories.

***


	61. Chapter 61

Part Sixty-One

The following weekend, Chris and Trip were relaxing in Trip’s apartment. Chris was idly studying a script for a read-through of the pilot episode of the new television series and Trip was catching up on the Sunday papers.

‘So this Simeon... is he on the level?’ Chris had evidently been turning over their conversation earlier that day.

‘What?’ Trip looked up dazedly from a feature on perfect Christmas presents that was both fascinating and horrifying him.

‘This guy you met, the prosthetics guy, Simeon... is he to be trusted?’

Trip lowered the magazine to his lap and looked at Chris, puzzled.

‘What d’you mean is he to be trusted?’

‘Well, you say you got along like a house on fire and he’s gonna make you... y’know, and we’re gonna try them out and everything... It just seems a bit sudden. Did he know who you were?’

Trip gazed at Chris for a moment, his brow furrowed.

‘You mean, did he know who you were?’ Trip filled in.

‘Well, yes... I guess I did. But it’s a reasonable question. You seem to have gotten quite pally with him...’ Chris couldn’t keep a tiny note of resentment out of his voice.

Trip gave him another long look.

‘Are you jealous?’

Chris felt the colour begin to rise in his cheeks.

‘I... uh...’

‘You are! You’re totally jealous!’ Trip laughed incredulously.

Chris clamped his lips together as his face continued to burn.

Trip reeled himself in.

‘That’s so sweet. Honey, he’s straight for one and secondly, uh, I love you.’

Chris fixed him with a steely look.

‘Thank you. But in all honesty, I was more concerned about you telling some complete stranger the ins and outs of our sex life!’

Trip burst out indignantly. ‘I didn’t! That wasn’t it at all! It was about me and what I wanted, actually. And besides, I didn’t say anything about you other than that you were a guy! I seriously doubt if Simeon could even pick you out in a crowd. Not everyone worships you, you know!’

Trip gaped as the realisation of what he’d just said hit him.

Chris looked as if he’d just been slapped, his face scarlet again.

A thunderous silence settled over them.

Trip felt his chest heaving from his outburst. He waited for his breathing to calm and then looked up at Chris.

‘I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.’

Chris took a shaky breath.

‘No, you’re right. I was being selfish. I was worried about the implications for me. It just seemed a pretty... intimate conversation for a Thanksgiving party...’

‘I told you, we just got on. We didn’t talk about you at all so don’t worry. I understand why you’re concerned but I don’t think you need to be.’

Chris sighed deeply.

‘I have to be, Trip, about something like this. It comes with the territory, you know that. I have to be constantly en garde for anything that can be twisted... anything that could just... be...’

‘Used to sully your pristine reputation.’ Trip finished for him.

‘Well, yeah... I guess. Now I’ve got this series, I need to be pretty careful till it gets established. It’s a bit of a delicate time.’

Trip felt his fists tighten instinctively.

‘What happened to not caring what people thought of you, of us?’

Chris’ eyes flashed momentarily.

‘That’s different! That’s a totally different thing from what I’m talking about!’

‘Oh, so it’s okay if we’re dating but heaven forfend that we should be fucking, right?’

‘Look, I don’t like it any more than you do! I’ve had to deal with this since I was nineteen: being the sweet gay boy who’d never been kissed, making damn sure no-one ever got to hear about what little I did manage to get up to, calling Dani in to mop up whenever things got a bit too grown up... and now I’ve found you and at exactly the same moment I land the part of a lifetime, with a bit of security for the foreseeable future and I don’t want to fuck it up because some guy that I don’t even know got chatting to my boyfriend at a party about his dick...’ Chris suddenly crumpled in his chair, his face in his hands, shoulders shaking silently. Trip thought for a second that he was laughing but realised with horror that he was actually crying. He lurched towards Chris, spilling newspapers and magazines onto the floor.

‘Hey, it’s okay! Chris? It’s okay... don’t...’ Trip perched on the arm of the chair and tried to wrap his arms around Chris but the body beneath his hands was rigid and closed-in, impossible to hold.

And he was making the most heart-wrenching keening sound that Trip had ever heard in his life.

‘Baby? Chris? It’s okay, don’t... don’t cry...’ Trip tried once again to hold him and pressed his cheek against the side of Chris’ head, one hand covering Chris’ as they clutched at his face.

Trip’s heart and mind raced. What should he say? What should he do? Why the fuck had he even talked to Simeon at the party? Why had he put Chris in this position? He wasn’t stupid, he should have thought about the implications of what he was doing! How stupid could he be!

‘Chris? I’m sorry, I’ll make it alright, I promise... just don’t...’ Trip felt close to tears himself. Chris was the strong one, Chris was the one who was always there for him, Chris didn’t cry!

Trip just sat dumbly, awkwardly holding Chris as he wept, desperately trying to think of the right thing to say.

Then, in a moment, Chris lowered his hands, took a deep breath and sat up straight, wiping his eyes on his sleeve and raking his fingers through his hair.

‘I’m okay. I’m sorry. I guess I’m just feeling the pressure of this new part.’

Trip watched him as Chris went on.

‘You don’t need to make anything right, it’s fine. I’m sure Simeon is a great guy and won’t go to the press with photos or revelations or anything. I’m sure he’s not going to steal you away from me and I’m sure that he’s not a damn sight more interesting to you than I am just because you bonded in a millisecond and I’m sure that I’ll get over my stupid insecurities and trust that you want to be with me.’

‘Wait... what? You were doubting me?’ Trip gaped.

‘I’m human, actually. Sorry.’ Chris’ shoulders drooped.

‘Squish up’ Trip said, pushing Chris over as he squeezed into the chair beside him. He wrapped an arm around Chris, feeling the lack of resistance, the surrender.

‘Chris, I do get it, I understand, I really do, but you were the one who was beginning to teach me how to live my life on my own terms, to not be what other people expected me to be, to just be myself. You know you are proud of who you are and who we are. Neither of us has to stop and think of the implications before making a new friend or having a conversation. We’ll just deal with what comes. Together. In the unlikely event of Simeon sending photos of my dick to the papers, we’ll deal with it. If they kick you off the series for that, we’ll cause a fucking media shitstorm. Because c’mon, you don’t get to have a gay couple on a TV show and then pretend that they don’t have sex, right? And you don’t get to cast a transgender actor and then not expect all the issues to come cascading down on your head.’

Chris wiped his eyes again.

‘You’re right, I know you’re right. You’re saying what I would say. I’m just so tired, Trip. It’s become a habit and I have had enough but I can’t stop sometimes. And I still think I’m protecting you. I wanna keep you safe from all this... it’s not yours to deal with...’

Trip butted in

‘..and it’s not yours either. What do you truly feel? What do you want your life to be? Constantly second guessing everything either of us does or says? Always considering the security of the people we meet and make friends with? Sure, some of them will screw us over, but most probably won’t and if they do... we have the power of integrity and right on our side!’

‘Truth, beauty, freedom...’

‘and love!’ 

Chris looked at Trip with a watery smile, suddenly realising what he really wanted. His work was important, sure; his image, equally so. But nothing came close to the importance of the man squashed awkwardly into the chair beside him.

‘I do love you, y’know’ Chris murmured.

‘And I love you too. So much, you will never understand.’

‘Oh, I think I will.’ Chris countered.

Trip sealed the conversation with a kiss. It seemed only appropriate.


	62. Chapter 62

Part Sixty-Two

‘So, we getting a car?’ Chris asked in the fourth phone conversation that day

‘We could. Or Marco can drive us. He doesn’t drink. But if you think getting a car is a better idea...’ Trip hadn’t even considered this one.

It was the day of the Stunt Actors Guild awards ceremony. Trip had tried to impress upon Chris that it didn’t even approach the awards events that he’d attended in the past. Ties were optional. (Though most enjoyed the opportunity to dress up) There was little in the way of a red carpet as few of the attendees had names that anyone outside of the film industry would recognise. There were no cameras or press, and guests usually drove themselves and each other to the rather unprepossessing hotel in whose conference suite the event was being held.

‘Let’s get a car.’ Chris decided. ‘Then we don’t have to worry about Bev and Marco waiting around for us. Plus, we can both have a little something and not get arrested on the way home.’

‘OK. Sounds like a good idea. You wanna fix that up?’

‘Sure, I’ll call Dani.’ There was a slight pause. ‘Are you sure the bowtie won’t be too much?’

Trip laughed. 

‘I’m sure it’ll be fine! There will be guys there in chinos, shirts and sports jackets and others in tuxedos and shiny shoes. They try to make people dress up but some just don’t feel comfortable with it. Look, I’ll wear mine too if it’ll make you feel better. We can go as Tweedledum and Tweedledee.’

‘Not really that reassuring, babe. But OK. Bowtie it is. I wanna look good for you.’

‘Thank you. Get the car to come here first, yeah? Makes sense.’ 

‘OK, see you at 6.30.’

‘Bye.’

Trip laid the phone on the kitchen counter. He was desperately worried that Chris would find the evening’s celebrations excruciatingly dull and amateur. Trip knew for a fact that Bill staged the event as more of a networking and social occasion than any kind of credible awards ceremony. Marco had several years’ worth of the modest glass trophies on his and Bev’s mantelpiece at home. Competition was considerably less intense than for a Golden Globe and the kudos attached to winning a SAGA award felt to Trip rather like that for a Kindergarten achievement. His stomach became more and more knotted as he got himself ready and by the time the buzzer sounded, he had convinced himself that the whole night was going to be a catastrophe.

He pressed the button on the entryphone. ‘Yeah?’

‘Car for Mr Parkes’ came a familiar voice.

‘Boots? Is that you?’ 

‘Sure is!’

At least the drive there would be tolerable. 

Trip shrugged his coat on over his tux and grabbed his phone and keys before switching off the lights and locking the door behind him.

***

Twenty minutes later they arrived at Chris’ apartment and Boots did a quick driveby to see whether they were likely to be hassled by anyone on the sidewalk. The chilly December air had evidently put off any photo opportunists so Boots pulled the car up right outside.

‘I’ll go.’ Trip offered, jumping out of the SUV before Boots could argue.

He ran up the steps to Chris’ building and pressed the buzzer for Chris’ apartment. A few minutes after answering, Chris appeared in the doorway, habitually checking left and right before stepping outside.

‘It’s safe.’ Trip assured him, stealing a kiss on the lips as Chris turned his head. ‘Boots is driving us. Did you fix that up?’

‘No, I guess Dani did. That’s good though.’ Chris looked at Trip’s outfit. ‘You look amazing.’

‘So do you.’

They hurried down the steps and into the backseat of the car, snuggling against each other in the warmth.

‘I just want you to understand that this isn’t gonna be glamorous or in any way like any awards event you’ve ever been to.’ Trip began.

‘Just stop, will you? Three times on the phone you tried to tell me just how terrible it’s going to be. I’m sure it’ll be a fine evening, Trip. I’m looking forward to it!’ Chris fumbled for Trip’s hand and squeezed it tight. ‘It’s gonna be an amazing night because I’m with you.’ 

Chris turned and smiled at him, before adding

‘Plus, there’s food!’

They fell into a comfortable silence as the car navigated the Hollywood darkness.  
***

‘Want me to drop you out the front? Looks pretty low key.’ Boots asked as they approached.

‘Yeah, out the front is fine, thanks.’ Trip replied. ‘There’s no red car-‘

‘Shut up!’ Chris interjected.

Boots opened the door for them and they stepped out onto the sidewalk.

As Trip looked up, he was surprised to see a battery of cameras behind a Tensabarrier and an unfamiliar number of security guards. He suddenly realised why Bill had had to put additional staff on tonight and mentally kicked himself.

The photographers were shouting Chris’ name urging him to stop for them but Chris artfully pushed Trip in front, lightly holding his hand so they weren’t separated.

‘You call the shots on this one. Stop if you want to, this is your night.’ Chris whispered in his ear.

‘But they’re all here for you!’ Trip pointed out with a smile, pulling Chris in line and stopping for a moment.

‘Trip! Trip!’ came a voice from the crowd. Trip looked up. ‘Are you getting an award tonight?’

Trip located the source of the question and replied ‘I don’t know, I don’t think so! They keep it all very secret.’

Suddenly several voices were calling his name and asking questions. Gripping Chris’ hand tightly, he answered a few questions and then they both posed for photos, before moving on towards the door. Once they were safely inside the lobby, Trip turned to Chris.

‘Well, that’s never happened before!’

‘Ah, the power of the megastar boyfriend.’ Chris fluttered his eyes as Trip batted him with the back of his hand.

A young woman in a black and white uniform offered to take their coats to the cloakroom and then they headed to the doorway leading to the large room where the ceremony was taking place.

It was bigger and more opulent than Trip had remembered. Perhaps he’d been rather inaccurate in his description of the venue to Chris. 

‘I thought you said it was like a community center!’ Chris leaned towards him.

‘I... err...’  
‘Not like any community center I’ve ever been to...’ Chris looked around at the swagged curtains and the crystal chandeliers.

‘I guess I remembered wrong.’ Trip muttered. Indeed, he had forgotten almost completely what the place looked like. He had invented a much more modest interior whilst trying to prepare Chris for the evening.

‘This is lovely!’ Chris waved a hand at the room, taking in the white damask tablecloths, the pink and red floral arrangements adorning the center of each table and the full silver service place settings.

‘Where do we sit?’

Trip looked behind them towards the door.

‘There should be a seating plan somewhere...’

‘There’s Bev.’ Chris nodded to a table near the raised dais at the front.

Trip spun round ‘We’re sitting with them.’

They wove their way towards the table, Bev catching sight of them as they approached. She stood and hugged first Chris and then Trip and offered to pour them both a drink from the open bottle of Champagne on the table.

‘Golden Globes it’s NOT!’ she chuckled to Chris as she filled his glass. ‘C’mon, lots of people to say hello to.’

They found themselves propelled back through the tables towards one of the small knots of people that were beginning to form around the room.

Trip recognised Bill Lee as the center of this particular group. His unbelievably young, glamorous wife towered above him, all teeth and peroxide. Trip greeted him with a handshake and a half hug, before introducing Chris.

Bill shook his hand ‘Good to have you here, Chris. Thanks for coming. Bit different from the Globes, eh?’ 

Trip had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time someone said that this evening.

Chris was enthusing about the venue, the set-up and how delighted he was to have been invited.

Bev introduced them to the rest of the group, several of whom Trip knew and he filled Chris in with details of how he’d met the other stunt actors and what they’d worked on together in the past. Chris was unerringly charming and seemed genuinely interested in what everyone had to say.

As he was chatting to two men with whom Trip had worked a couple of years ago, he and Trip felt a heavy hand on each of their shoulders. They simultaneously spun round to see Marco grinning from ear to ear.

‘’sup boys?’

‘Hey, Marco! I wondered where you were!’ Trip was caught up in a bear hug, as was Chris, with much back-slapping and smiling. Chris began to feel like he was part of some crazy Hollywood fraternity.

Trip looked over Marco’s shoulder and caught sight of some more people he knew.

‘Marco, Bev, would you excuse us a minute? Chris, there’s some people I’d like you to meet.’ He led Chris over to a table where two couples were already seated, one of the men struggling to open the bottle of Champagne. After much enthusiastic hugging, Trip turned to Chris,

‘Chris, these are my good friends Paul and Matt and their better halves Sally and Alison...’ 

Chris shook hands all round and perched on the seat next to Alison. He had caught her momentary jaw-drop and thought she might appreciate a little chumminess. He had also caught her brief waggle of her ring finger which Trip had completely missed in his eagerness to catch up with his male friends.

‘That’s beautiful. Recent?’ He leant in to look at the ring.

Alison giggled ‘Couple of weeks... still getting used to it.’

‘You fixed a date yet?’

‘God, no. It was hard enough work getting this far!’

They chatted and Sally came round the table to join them. Eventually, inevitably, both young women got to gushing about how much they admired Chris for all that he’d done and how brave he’d been and how wonderful it was that he and Trip were together and happy. Chris nodded and smiled graciously, really much more interested in sharing their experiences of dating stuntmen.

‘Chris, you have to meet someone!’ Trip appeared behind Alison and Sally, frantically gesturing.

‘I think he’s planning to introduce me to everyone in the room before we get to the appetisers...’ Chris grinned wryly at the girls. ‘Lovely to meet you, see you later.’

‘There’s no rush, sweetheart; I’m gonna be here all evening.’ Chris ran a calming hand up and down Trip’s arm.

‘I know, but you have to meet Dolly. She’s a legend.’

‘Who’s Dolly?’ Chris looked ahead, searching for a clue.

‘Dolly Lamarr, one of the first modern day stunt women. She’s a bit wandering now but in her day, Dolly was the shit! I adore her.’ 

Trip pulled Chris over to another table where an elderly woman was sitting, surrounded by people. She had silver hair and wore an elegant pale blue gown. Even seated, Chris could see that in her heyday, Dolly must have had a formidable physique for a woman, though she seemed a little frail now.

As they approached, the crowd parted, letting Trip through. He knelt on the floor beside her chair and as she recognised him, she clasped his face in her ring-bedecked hands.

‘Oh, Trip, honey, how are you? I heard you got hurt, are you feeling better now?’

‘I’m fine, Dolly. How are you? You look beautiful tonight.’

‘Oh, pshh. I’m an old bag and I know it. All these beautiful young men just keep asking me to wear the gowns they’ve made for me, though. I’m just doing them a favor.’

Trip chuckled at her feistiness.

‘Dolly, there’s someone I want you to meet...’

‘Did you finally get yourself a man, Trip?’

‘Yes, Dolly, this time I finally did!’ 

Every time he’d met her, since the first time several years before, Dolly had asked the same question. She’d been rather less frail back then and had spent a good half hour digging into Trip’s past. She’d accepted everything without question.

‘Chris, I’d like you to meet Miss Dorothy Lamarr, stuntwoman extraordinaire!’

‘Oh, pssh! Stuntwoman very much past-it, I’m afraid!’

Chris took her hand and knelt beside her as Trip had done.

‘It’s an honor to meet you Miss Lamarr.’

‘Oh, you sweet boy. Now what do you do, Chris?’

Chris’ eyes flicked up to Trip’s and back.

‘I’m an actor, ma’am.’

‘Oh, you too? You been in anything I’d have heard of?’

Chris took a breath and was about to explain his back catalogue but suddenly thought better of it.

‘Probably not.’ He replied with a smile.

Dolly patted his hand, still resting in her own, ‘Never mind, dear, keep at it. You’ve got plenty of time. Perseverance: that’s what this game’s all about. And being nice to the people around you, don’t forget that!’ Dolly looked up at Trip.

‘You are so right, Miss Lamarr, I won’t!’

As he spoke, a voice echoed around the room from one of the microphones set up on the dais.

‘Ladies and gentlemen! Please take your seats at your tables; dinner will be served shortly.’

There was general movement and a hubbub of voices as all the groups of people squeezed past each other to their allocated tables. Many still greeting friends and colleagues with hugs and handshakes as they went.

‘It’s been wonderful to meet you, enjoy your evening, Miss Lamarr.’ Chris felt his hand being gently patted as he rose to his feet. Watery blue eyes followed him and a ghost of recognition seemed to cross the old woman’s face.

‘What an incredible lady!’ Chris shook his head as they returned to their table.

Trip placed his hand on Chris’ waist to pause him as he pulled out his chair. 

‘I hope I’m doing that well at eighty-seven.’

‘Shit.’ Chris turned to smile at Trip as he sat down in the proffered seat. ‘Why, thank you!’

‘My pleasure.’ Trip returned, kissing the top of Chris’ head without thinking as he moved over to sit in his own seat.

A waiter glided to their table and began shaking out crisp red linen napkins into their laps.


	63. Chapter 63

Part Sixty-Three

 

‘You spent so much time telling me how low key and awful this was gonna be, you didn’t tell me how good the food was!’ Chris said in a low voice through a mouthful.

Trip nodded. ‘Mmmm, guess I forgot all the good stuff. This duck is incredible!’

They were finishing off their main courses, having taken a break after the appetisers for a few of the less significant awards. Clips of film footage of each of the winners in action played on a large screen behind the stage before the winners came up to collect their trophies. Trip had watched Chris like a hawk for his reaction to the awards for the ‘Most Injured Stunt Actor of the Year’ and ‘Most Innovative Combination of Falls’.

Chris however, appeared to be thoroughly enjoying himself. He seemed to welcome the more relaxed atmosphere and the increasingly riotous company of Bev. Their table was completed by Mike, whom Chris had met on the same day he’d been introduced to Trip, and Mike’s wife Nya. Bev and Nya had been knocking back the Champagne like it was going out of fashion and had gotten very giggly indeed. Chris was loving their bawdy conversation and inappropriate comments.

Once their tables had been cleared again and well-timed pitchers of water distributed around the room, the more serious awards were given. Trip watched as friends and colleagues walked up to the dais to receive their trophies. Some made speeches and some left the stage after a handshake and a simple ‘Thank you’. Trip leaned towards Chris and filled him in each time an actor’s name was called with whom he had worked.

In a pause, Chris turned to Trip.

‘Why haven’t you ever won any of these?’

Trip made a face.

‘I told Bill that I would never come back or speak to him again if he ever nominated me. I just never wanted to do all that.’ Trip gestured to the stage.

‘Really? Why not?’

‘I’m too self critical to ever believe it was anything but a joke. Plus... I hate people look... well, I used to hate people looking at me at this kind of thing..’ Trip looked as if he’d just been struck by the irony of his explanation.

‘Ah. Have I cured you of that yet?’ Chris smiled, squeezing his hand beneath the table.

‘Pretty much.’ Trip nodded, a sardonic smile playing about his lips.

‘Good!’ Chris grinned back, adding a delighted: ‘Mmm, dessert!’ as he caught sight of carts of sweets being wheeled between the tables.

Their table disintegrated into a sticky mess of meringue, whipped cream, chocolate and fruit and there was much sharing and spoon-dipping to taste everyone else’s dessert.

‘This certainly never happens at the Golden Globes!’ Chris chuckled, his mouth bulging.

‘You’re gonna be so larded up!’ Trip prodded his belly.

‘Hey!’ Chris protested.

‘Boys! Save it till later!’ Bev reprimanded raucously across the table, waving a creamy spoon wildly at them.

As they finished their dessert and the army of serving staff swiftly and efficiently cleared the debris, Trip caught Chris throwing a perplexed look towards Bev. She returned his glance with a raised-eyebrow smile as she noticed Trip watching them.

‘What’s going on?’ Trip asked, looking between them both.

‘Nothing.’ Chris shook his head as he turned back to Trip, all bland innocence. Bev shrugged and concentrated hard on folding her napkin into a triangle.

Trip hummed suspiciously, certain now that something was going on. He suddenly jerked his head towards the stage as Bill’s amplified voice returned.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, if I might have your attention for just a little while longer. Don’t worry, coffee and liqueurs will be served shortly...’

There was a ripple of laughter from the tables. No-one was under any illusion as to the main reason for most of the guests’ attendance that evening. A good meal and an open bar could carry one through any number of halting speeches of thanks and rounds of hearty applause.

‘...Although we have finished with the main awards, we have an additional presentation tonight.’ Bill paused, waiting for the room’s full attention, or the best he could get, bearing in mind that most guests were quite merry by this point.

‘This is the first time this award has been given and it recognises an actor whom we feel has made a significant contribution to the industry and triumphed against adversity along the way. Most of us here know this person and quite a few of you have had the pleasure of working with him...’

Trip felt his heart beat a little faster and tried to catch Chris’ eye for a clue but Chris remained steadfastly gazing to the front.

‘...as many of you who’ve already guessed this actor’s identity will know, he hasn’t had the easiest of times this year but he seems to have come out of it determined to hold his head high and use his experiences in a positive way. I have always rated his work on screen as a stunt artist and I know that those of you who’ve worked with him will agree with me that he has some of the highest standards of professionalism and skill of anyone working in the industry today. He’s also one of the most modest people I know and up until now, hasn’t let me call him out at one of these events. Well, tonight, it’s my call, buddy...’ Bill gestured towards the screen ‘Let’s see him in action.’

Trip heard the distinctive theme music of one of the first movies he’d ever worked on pounding through the speakers and he covered his face with his hands.

Chris reached over and pulled his hands away, holding them tightly between his own as he smiled proudly at Trip, who was blushing furiously.

‘You totally knew about this, didn’t you?!’ Trip muttered, casting an accusing glare at Chris.

‘I may have had a little pre-information.’ Chris grinned.

Trip took a deep breath and forced himself to look up at the screen. Understandably, none of the clips was recognisable as being him and he was thankful that for a moment at least, some of the audience still had no idea who they were watching. He saw a figure fall down three flights of stairs, take a bullet and drop from a high building, dive from a cliff into a turquoise computer-generated ocean and tumble down a dusty mountainside. That one had been particularly memorable for the styrofoam boulders which kept dislodging and bouncing lightly and unconvincingly down the slope. And for the amount of sand and grit he had taken home in his mouth and underwear each day after shooting.

The montage of clips culminated with the building fall from his latest film which had been executed on the backlot. Clever editing and use of multiple angles made the fall seem almost endless and Trip’s body tumbled and rolled over and over as he fell. Spontaneous applause erupted as the screen went blank and the SAGA logo reappeared as a backdrop. Bill waited for the applause to die down a little before shouting gleefully into the microphone:

‘Ladies and gentlemen, the special award for Significant Contribution to the Stunt Acting Industry goes to Trip Parkes!’

Another overwhelming wave of applause broke from the tables, several people rose to their feet simultaneously, Chris included, prompting all the other guests to follow suit.

Trip felt detached from his body as Chris pulled him up and into a secure embrace.

‘I’m so proud of you, babe.’ He said in Trip’s ear and he propelled Trip towards the front of the room to receive his award.  
Trip swallowed and buttoned his jacket as he unsteadily wove his way between the tables to the aisle leading towards the steps. He was vaguely aware of people slapping his back as he moved past them. Some squeezed his arm, many grinned and congratulated him; all were clapping and clapping.

Deliberately pulling down his shoulders and clearing his mind as he always did before a challenging stunt, Trip leaped up the steps and jogged towards Bill, grinning broadly. His acting sense kicked in, he knew this role well enough.

Bill shook his hand warmly, saying sincere and congratulatory words which Trip completely failed to catch. He clutched the proffered glass award, heavier than he’d anticipated, and turned to the crowd. Bill had a hand on his shoulder as he raised the trophy towards the room, grinning broadly. The applause seemed to go on for hours. Trip stepped forward to the microphone and things began to hush a little.

Once the room was more or less quiet, Trip began to speak.

‘Thank you, you’re too kind.’

The applause threatened to start up again but Trip quelled it with a hand.

‘There’s a reason why I never let Bill nominate me for one of these before. See, I do a job I love, I’m lucky to be able to play every day of my working life and I know many of you feel the same way. I feel like every day is my reward, my prize, my trophy. I’m blessed to be able to work with some of the most talented people in Hollywood and to have learned from the best. As Bill said, I spent a while this year injured and unable to work and although it wasn’t the first time, and probably won’t be the last...’ an undertone of laughter caught the room as Trip continued ‘...but it kind of opened my eyes to a few things. Our job is to create an illusion, a reality from what is essentially a pretence. I decided that I wasn’t going to do that in my own life any more. I’m not gonna go into details here but I’d just like to thank a few of the people who’ve supported me, some from the start and some from quite recently.’

Trip took a breath as he gathered his thoughts.

‘Firstly Bev and Marco from BVM Solutions, the best trainer and agent, and the best gussy-upper and listening ear a guy could ever wish for, my surrogate parents. I wouldn’t be here without you...’

Trip broke off to blow a kiss towards Bev who he could see was weeping dramatically into her red napkin as Marco grasped her shoulders with one arm and waved to Trip with the other.

‘...to all the team who work with BVM, you know who you are; you guys and gals rock. Thanks to Desi for taking care of me in this latest round of insanity... are you here tonight, Desi? ‘

Trip scanned the sea of faces until he spotted a waving arm over a familiar bald head near the back of the room.

‘There you are! Thanks, buddy.’ Trip gave him a thumbs up with his free hand.

‘...and finally, and I know this is the one you’ve all been waiting for and probably the main reason Bill asked me here tonight...’ Trip threw a grin towards Bill to make sure he didn’t take the dig in the wrong way. Bill was laughing merrily. Trip exhaled in relief.

‘...thank you to Chris, the man who has made this all worthwhile; who pulled me through when things were looking kinda dark for me and the man who showed me what it’s like to really fall... with no crash mat or safety net, no trick photography or CGI, just the knowledge that there was someone there to catch me. I love you, Chris!’

The audience rose once more to their feet applauding and cheering as Chris bounded up the aisle and onto the stage, not even bothering to climb the steps. He hugged Trip and kissed him firmly on the lips, crushing the trophy between them, then just as quickly he leaped off the stage again, remaining near the front, clapping and cheering as Trip raised his trophy aloft before eventually jumping down to join him.

‘Listen to them, Trip! That’s for you; that’s how special you are; never forget what that sounds like.’ Chris gripped an arm around Trip’s shoulders as he carefully guided him back to his seat. Once they were seated, Trip placed the award on the table, reached for Chris and kissed and kissed and kissed him, knowing that he’d won so much more than a trophy and sensing that there was so much more to come.

FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, it's done. I can't believe it. It just finished itself. Waaaah! There may be sequels. There may be spin offs. I'm rather fond of some of the OCs I've created. Let me know what you think. I'm open to suggestions. Right now, however, I feel a strange numbness.  
> Please leave comments, positive or constructively critical!  
> Thank you for reading. x


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